Diary of Jayne
by TChronicler
Summary: Dear Diary, Today the shepherd poked at my secret past and I tried to kill him. Moonbrain attacked me, Doc doped me, Mal wants to space me...It was the best day ever. /Rayne/ Between Objects in Space and the Serenity BDM. Why Book left. Without Book's guidance, Jayne struggles to reconcile his self-interested habits with his empathy for River.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Firefly stories aren't much the thing these days, which just sad, to my way of thinking. This story settled itself in my head and doesn't want to let go. Hope there are a few of you out there who still care about these guys as much as I do. Lots of ideas, so generous responses will probably result in more story. Brain feeds on feedback; sad but true.

xxxxx

"So, you ever gonna talk about what it is you done before you become a shepherd, Shepherd?"

"Sure, Jayne. Seems like time enough. And you seem to have your suspicions about me. Care to share any?"

Jayne snorted out a half laugh, holding the weighted bar close to his chest. He breathed out slowly as he pushed it away again. He didn't expect to get anything out of Book. He was just talkin'. "Oh, so I'm s'posed to guess? I figure you was some kind of Alliance officer. You ain't a grunt. Too educated, and you don't have the habit of lookin' to anyone to tell you what you think. Probly you was involved in the war in some way. The war changed a lot of people. Set you on becomin' a shepherd. That's how I figure it."

"Seems like you've put some real thought into my background. Should I be flattered?"

Jayne would have shrugged if he could have, but his endurance was wearing thin and he could feel the beginnings of shivering fatigue in his muscles. "Reckon you can be, if you want. Just as likely there's a lot of empty space in the Black a man's got to fill up thinkin' on somethin', so you don't gotta take it too personal. I ain't really tryin' to pry, Preacher."

"I appreciate the sentiment. Alliance, yes. After that incident on Jiangyin*, well, there's really no hiding that, is there? The captain's done a fair job of ignoring it so far, which I find surprising."

"Mal can ignore a lot of things, when he wants to," Jayne grunted.

"Hmm."

Jayne took that for agreement and couldn't read more into it. Maybe it was Book's way of lettin' this line of conversation die out. Thing was, much as Jayne respected a man's right to keep his privacy private, he was curious about the preacher. Jayne never was one for makin' friends. Took care not to make them, matter of fact, but Book had slipped in under his guard. Had a way about him like that-probly some preacher thing they taught at that shepherd school on Persephone. Still, preacher or no, people with secrets could be dangerous. He wasn't really inclined to let the topic go now he'd got the man talkin' a bit.

"Was it the war, then? What turned you all religious?"

"You assume there has to be some life-altering trauma in my past?"

"It's them vows. Figure a man doesn't give up his, er, earthly pursuits for the rest of his life without some big reason behind it."

Book laughed. "Some do. And that was rather delicately stated, by the way."

Jayne rolled his eyes. Weren't nothin' delicate about him. "For a big _hun dan_ like me, you mean." And the preacher had side-stepped another question. Jayne put his concentration back on his workout, figuring he wasn't getting anything more out of the old man.

"The thing that changed me, it was before the war. Took a while for me work it through and make my decision. Most men are good at ignoring things they don't want to see, I think, and I was as I blind as I wanted to be in those days. I saw what I wanted to see, and I believed..."

"What did you believe?" Jayne prompted when Book fell silent.

"That's just it, son. I just...believed. Later, when I sat myself down and forced myself to look at what I was doing, what I had done, I didn't even know what it was I was believing in."

Stinging tendrils of fatigue wrapped Jayne's muscles, but he continued to force himself to lift as long as he could, unwilling to break the mood that had loosened the shepherd's tongue.

"I see God's hand in so many things. That I'm here, now, on this boat...that's part of His plan for me."

Something about that drew a creepy line of chill up Jayne's spine. "Why's that?"

"That girl, for one thing. What was done to her at the Academy. That's God showing me where we were headed, what I would have set my hand to if I hadn't allowed Him to show me another path."

"I don't follow."

"The Academy was hardly the first such program our government has been involved in, and it won't be the last. But I'll admit even I was shocked by what was done to our poor River."

"Ain't right," Jayne ground out. He knew it was true, about there bein' other programs. And it was bad enough when people with more power than scruple scooped up nameless, homeless, worthless kids with the promise of food and a safe place to sleep at night. But luring kids in with that shiny Academy? Genius, special kids like River, kids with a future? That was another level. And the cuttin' on their brains? Jayne wasn't never gonna forget Simon's words as he studied those pictures of the inside of River's head. "Ain't right what they did to her."

"No, it most certainly ain't right. Not when they did it to her. Not when we did it to you."

xxxxxxxxxx

*Incident on Jiangyin- from the episode "Safe" in which Book was injured and received medical attention from the Alliance through use of a mysterious ident card.

 _hun dan-_ bastard


	2. Chapter 2

Mal laughed, looking around the table at his audience. "So then Dennis come round the corner, no clue what was goin' on-Zoe, remember the look on his face?"

"I remember, Captain," she replied, all laconical-like in that way she had. Mal wasn't quite sure if she was annoyed, bored, humoring him or what. He'd long ago settled on a little bit everything.

"So?" Wash encouraged. "Wha'd he do?"

"Well, he-"

A crash of dishes in the kitchen area had Mal spinning around where he stood. Kaylee sprang to her feet.

"River, honey, are you okay?"

"The sheep has become the wolf," she muttered, with that faraway, creepifyin' look in her eye. Then she dropped the last of the dishes on the floor and took off at a run.

"Never a dull moment around here," Mal muttered. He set off after her, knowing Zoe was at his back and others were following. "Is it so much to ask, a few dull moments?"

"You were trying your best, Captain," Zoe assured him.

Mal heard Wash's snicker echo through the stairwell as their boots pounded down the metal treads. The crazy little girl had jumped most of them and was headed down to the hold. He was getting too old to be doing stuff like that. Too old for a lot of the _go shi_ went on on his boat these days.

As the hold opened up to view from the catwalk, Mal could see Jayne and the shepherd in the corner. Shepherd Book leaned over Jayne, his hands covering the other man's as he guided the weights back to the stand and River ran straight toward them. Jayne yanked his hands away and stood up, his body language radiating trouble.

"Hey there!" Mal called out, jumping some steps after all.

River planted herself in front of Jayne, bare feet spread, looking hard and ridiculously tiny as she slammed her palm against his chest.

"No!" she commanded.

"Step aside, girlie," Jayne snarled, "this ain't no business of yours."

"Please stay back," she raised her voice to Mal and the rest. "There is a 100% probability that interference will result in serious injury."

"Whose?" Mal asked.

River's head tilted to the side. "Uncertain." She looked up at Jayne. "Must not break the holy man."

"Ain't nothin' holy about that man, you crazy. Now git."

"River," Book said gently, "back away from Jayne."

"He wants to hurt you."

"He has his reasons," Book told her.

"He doesn't understand he hurts himself."

"Out of my gorram way," Jayne roared. His arm whipped out to shove her and she ducked, fast as a fish didn't want to be caught, moving in to deal a blow to his shoulder that knocked him back a pace. "This ain't a dance you want any part of."

"Dancing is what she was made for," River told him.

He lashed out, a testing blow, and she blocked it.

"Jayne!" Mal barked. "You're gonna want to stand down." The big man and the girl traded another set of blows. Mal took an involuntary step forward to get between them, but River had told him to stay out of it. After the way she'd handled things with the bounty hunter, Mal had decided he wanted to find a way to see what she could do, he just didn't think he'd find it so soon. "Doc," he said quietly, over his shoulder as they watched the combatants circle each other, "we may need you handy with a sedative."

"For which one?"

"Don't know yet."

"I'll prep both. Do not let him hurt her."

"Doesn't seem like much chance of that."

The pace of their strikes was picking up, but for all the rage rolling off the mercenary, he seemed to pulling his punches. Both wore looks of fierce concentration, but there was also something else.

"It _is_ a dance," Kaylee whispered. "There's somethin'...beautiful about it."

"About a grown man beating up on a little girl?" Wash asked.

"But he ain't," Zoe observed. "He ain't tried to use his size to advantage. He's calming down."

"Calming d-this is the calming?" Wash asked.

"She's right," Mal said.

Simon skidded to a stop behind him. "Got them."

"Okay, this has gone on long enough. Zoe?"

"I'll take the left, sir."

"I've got the right, then. Doc, gonna need you to get in and dope him right quick-like, can you do that?"

"Wait," Wash interrupted. "I thought you said there was calming."

"And now there'll be more calming," Mal answered. "Zoe?"

xxxxx

 _go shi-_ crap


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I often forget to disclaim. Because it's absurd. No one thinks I think I own it.

xxxxx

"Book's asked me not to ask you what you set you off last night."

Jayne blinked up at Mal and the bright light behind him. He tried to raise his hand and found it strapped down.

"Yeah," Mal drawled, "you're pretty much going to be stuck like that until we make landfall and drop off the shepherd."

"Mal..."

"Don't give me that tone. I'm still tryin' to figure out why I'm dropping off the preacher and not your sorry _pi gu_."

"Why ain't cha?" He was fighting off the after-fog of the sedative they'd stuck him with, and this didn't make no good sense.

"'Cause 's what the man asked of me, and he can be surprisingly persuasive. Which is also why, against my better judgment, I'm letting him come in here and say his goodbyes to you."

Jayne turned his head away. "I don't want to be in the same room with that _cheong bao ho tze ching soh._ "

Mal looked at him like he'd grown two heads, then his face went hard again. "Don't recall asking what you wanted. If you also recall, you laid hands on the little River girl last night."

"She started it!"

"And you're lucky I ain't finishin' it, is what I'm tellin' ya," Mal snapped. "Preacher's comin' in here to talk to you. You're gonna talk to him civilized, and these straps are gonna see that you do. I don't care what's between you, you are _not_ gonna break that chair and bust up my infirmary, _dong ma?_ "

"You're not stayin'?"

"Shepherd wants a private talk."

"Well I don't want no private talk with him!" It wasn't entirely true. Jayne had questions, or things to say, or something. Things he didn't want Mal to know about. But the idea of facing one of _them_ while strapped to a chair, all them needles around... "Will you send River?"

"Will I what now?"

"Just let me talk to her. Preacher won't say nothin' to her bein' here. She don't want to stay, fine, just...let me ask her."

"What's this all about, Jayne?"

"You wasn't supposed to ask that."

"But River can know."

 _River probably already knows. And maybe you already got a sense that she does, Mal._

"I don't like all thisprivate _go se._ I should get to know what goes on on my own boat."

"So put me off at the next port, Mal."

"We might just have that conversation later."

The crazy girl peeked her head in the doorway. When he didn't say anything, she scampered to the counter across the room from him and folded herself onto it. She stared at him with that solemn but dazed look she had that made him feel like a bug being studied.

"Did I hurt ya?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Wasn't trying to hurt the girl. An exercise in frustration."

"Yeah." Silence stretched awkwardly between them, and he didn't know how much time he had. "He comin'?"

River tilted her head and her eyes unfocused. "He's on the bridge with Wash and Zoe. They're talking about the captain."

"How do you know that?"

"She listens and hears things. Not here," she covered her ears, "but here," she put her fingers to her temples. "Vibrations. Shivers in the wind. Shivers with shapes that-"

"Yeah yeah, okay. What do you know? About last night," he added, before she could go off on some crazy tangent.

"Not sheep's clothing but shepherd's. He lowered the mask and you saw the wolf. The wolf from your nightmares. Betrayal sank its teeth and-"

"River!" he snapped at the rising pitch of her voice.

"She is in control."

"Yeah? Stay that way." Funny how her crazy talk actually made sense to him. Did that make him crazy?

"Context aids comprehension."

It took him a moment to work out the words, then he nodded. "What else?"

"The past. Your past. Just flashes. A prisoner. A boy. Changed you. Broke you down into parts to rebuild into something else. But you left. Left before you got put back together."

 _Like me._

If he hadn't been looking right at her, he would have sworn she'd said it. But she hadn't. Just his brain filling in. He shook his head.

"I put myself back together." _May be a few parts missing. 'Jayne Cobb's one heartless_ go neong yung duh. _'_ _'That man's got no sense of decency.' 'Ain't got much upstairs, but he can shoot the fleas off a rat.'_

"He's coming," she said. She tilted her head again. "Jayne wants the girl to stay. Listen to the wolf's lies. What big teeth you have." She frowned. "Something else."

"Yeah," Jayne admitted, trying to get clear about what he wanted from her. "I think...they ain't out lookin' for me no more. Least ways I wouldn't think they would be. It's been a long time, and I wasn't never that important. But I'm thinkin' maybe there's still folks wouldn't mind havin' the chance to get their hooks in me again. See how it all turned out, _dong ma?_ Book knows things about me. Not just what ship I'm signed onto, but who I call family and where they're at."

"The maker of the cunning hat was not the maker of the cunning boy."

Jayne really wanted to rub at his head. Why'd she have to make everything so difficult? "No, she ain't my real ma. Don't mean it's okay for some gorram Fed squad to go make trouble or snatch her up to get at me. I need to know if it's on his mind to tell anyone about me."

"I assure you I have no such intention."

Jayne's head whipped around. If it weren't such a struggle to talk to the crazy girl, Book wouldn't have snuck up on him like that. Or maybe he was slipping. "Say your piece, then, and get the hell out."

"I'm sorry. That's what I wanted to say. For my part of what was done to you, first of all. I've wanted to say that since I first realized who you were."

"How did you know?"

"I'm not sure. At first I thought I was only seeing what I wanted to see."

Jayne felt rage flash through him, saw the girl flinch back.

"I only meant...You left, you and the others, and we hunted you. _I_ hunted you. I had told myself I was doing important work, the work that was going to make people _better._ I was helping to bring about a brighter tomorrow. But I was a monster in the dark. You escaped and I tried to drag you back down into my darkness. When I finally awoke to that fact, I walked away."

"And they just let you do that?"

"Well, that's why they call it 'seeking sanctuary,'" Book smiled. "But yes. Years went by, administrations came and went, papers pushed and shuffled. Enough swept under the carpet that no one much cared about one mad scientist who got religion and spent his days puttering in a garden. Those who didn't forget us have no interest in drawing attention our past. Nor to their present activities."

Jayne nodded, understanding.

"So one day I packed my bags and headed down to the docks to reacquaint myself with the world for a spell. A part of me I didn't want to acknowledge hoped I might run across the ones who had gotten away. To see how you'd turned out."

"Sought the lost children," River said. "Finding them surviving and whole would be a balm to a conscience jagged with regret."

"Yes," Book said, hesitant. He turned back to Jayne. "Something about this ship called to me. Something besides a charming girl with a rainbow parasol and a weakness for strawberries. So I boarded. Showed up in the galley for supper that night and met a man with Michael's eyes."

Jayne ground his teeth.

"Of course I couldn't be sure. There were signs, but it could have been my wishful thinking."

"What signs?"

"The aggression was the first thing I noticed. Not definitive by itself, obviously. And there's a certain immaturity that reminds me of the boy you were."

Jayne narrowed his eyes into one of his more intimidatin' glares.

"I apologize. Strange how easy it is to fall back into that detachment. There was also the skillset that started to become apparent as soon as the situation with the Tams began evolving. The way you move. The way you assess a situation. Your heightened senses of hearing and smell that tell you when someone is coming, even when you aren't looking. Your accuracy with firearms..."

"Could be I'm just good at my job."

"Jayne. Jacob, Ani, Yosef, Nora, Elias."

"Not a girl's name," River murmured. "Only parts."

"No Michael," Book said quietly.

"Michael's dead."

"So is Yosef. We found him. He...resisted reacquisition. That's when I left."

Jayne muttered a string of expletives. He never thought about them, and if he ever did, he assumed they were all dead because somehow it was just easier that way. Hearing it confirmed was harder than it should have been.

"I'm sorry," Book told him.

"Yeah, you said that. When did you know it was me?"

"Last night when I said what I said and you knew what it meant."

Another string of expletives. "What now?"

"I'm leaving Serenity. I don't know what I thought would happen when you knew the truth, but it's apparent we can't coexist. I'll be staying here on Haven, for as long as I feel I can be of use. I won't go looking for them again."

"You're just going to tell me where you'll be?"

"Planning to kill me in my sleep?"

"I ain't hardly gonna enjoy it if you're sleepin'."

Book shook his head sadly, and it infuriated Jayne that his disappointment mattered. "You'll do what you need to do, Jayne. I let River intervene last night for your sake, not mine. As much as the captain and I have our differences, he won't have murder his ship. I don't know that he would have believed your justifications."

"You ain't gonna be of a mind to tell anyone about me, are you?"

"All of Serenity's secrets will be safe with me."

"Well I should hope so," Mal said in that too-smooth voice of his. He looked from one to the other. "River, these fellas behavin' themselves?"

"Yes, Captain. The conversation flows unimpeded by the current antagonism, though a resolution is unlikely."

"What's that now?"

"She says we're not fighting but we're not making up either," Book explained.

"I sure do wish you'd tell me what's going on. And/or work this out like civilized folk."

"It's just time I moved on, Captain."

"Seems sudden to my reckoning. Anyways, I came to tell you we're touching down now." As soon as he said it, they felt the soft bounce and settle of Wash's landing. "Let me walk you out."

"Just...one more moment, Captain. I'll meet you in the hold."

Mal looked from one to the other again and shrugged. "All righty then."

When Mal had turned the corner, Book approached Jayne for the first time. River scrambled off her counter and Jayne assumed she was going to either leave, or take up a position to protect the old man again. She surprised him by coming around the other side of his chair and settling her cool fingers over his. He didn't grasp them, but he didn't shake her off.

"What is it, River?" Book asked.

"'You don't fix it, it fixes you.'"

Book smiled at her. The smile that said you done good and felt like a pat on the back. "That's right, child. Stay safe." He looked down at Jayne. "I'm letting the captain know that I'll always welcome visits from Serenity's crew. I'm not expecting you to forgive me, but I want you to know that, if you have questions, or if you ever need me, you can come to me."

Jayne swallowed past a tightness he didn't rightly understand and turned his head away.

xxxxx

 _pi gu-_ ass

 _cheong bao ho tze ching soh-_ monkey raping ruthless beast of a person

 _dong ma?-_ understand?


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: If I owned this, there would be Jayne dolls with wardrobe. And also River dolls. So I could make them kiss. But I don't, so there aren't, and such is the unfairness of life.

Thank you for your kind reviews. It makes me so happy to share this with you. (And when you write back, it's less like I'm talking to myself like a crazy person.)

xxxxx

"Jayne, River, you're done. Go to your rooms, please."

"Aw, come on, Mal," Jayne whined. "We ain't even done nothin'."

"Table manners consistent with current cultural setting have been observed, Captain," River agreed with Jayne. Least ways Mal was pretty sure that's what she was doin'.

"Ain't a punishment for bad table manners. I intend to talk about you while you're not here."

Jayne looked like he wanted to say something, but shoved back his chair and strode to the exit.

"Your bunk's the other way, Jayne," Mal called.

"I'll be in the hold," Jayne snapped. Mal allowed the other man his defiance as it tended to keep some ration of peace.

River snatched up the last protein flour biscuit and started to follow.

"Steer clear of the man-ape, _mei-mei,_ " Simon said.

River just gave her brother a look and flounced out.

Mal knew there needed to be some airin' out regarding recent events, but he was for damned sure he didn't know where to start. He felt like things were spinning out of control, and that never set well. The dust-up over River and firearms, Jubal Early breaking into the boat, Inara...

"Anybody got anythin' they wanna say?"

"Do we know what happened between Jayne and the shepherd?" Wash asked.

"No we don't," Mal told him. "Book convinced me that was somethin' between him n' Jayne, and I'm inclined to let it stay that way. 'Slong as it doesn't interfere with the runnin' o' things."

"Sure am curious, though," Kaylee said.

"Doesn't take much to set Jayne off," Simon told her. "Voice of experience here."

"Well not for you, no. But Jayne and Book was good friends. As close to bein' friends as Jayne gets. Voice of experience here," she threw back at him, with a half grin to soften it before her face went serious again as she looked back to Mal. "I just hate we're losin' people, Captain. Feels..."

"I know, little Kaylee. I've lost my ambassador and my preacher-only respectable people I had on this boat-over the course of two weeks. Got a job planned and I can't afford to toss my gunhand out the airlock, much as I might like to. Don't got plans to dump my doc or my crazy person, neither, but we gotta have us a talk about what happened last night."

"River defended Book," Simon snapped. "Maybe even saved his life. If anyone was crazy last night, it was your semi-trained ape."

"Ain't denyin' that. But how, Doc? How'd she know the shepherd needed saving?"

"You're back to the psychic thing again," Zoe stated.

"Can't ignore it."

"Can we talk about how a ninety-eight pound girl fights off a...Jayne?" Wash asked.

"Zoe already said he wasn't tryin' to hurt her," Kaylee was quick to remind them.

Zoe leaned back in her chair, sharing a glance with Mal over her husband's head. "Seeing her move, I'm not sure it would have mattered."

Mal nodded. "And the first few rounds there, I'm not sure how much he was pullin' punches."

"I know I couldn't last two rounds against Jayne," Wash said.

Zoe patted his shoulder. "We all know that, dear."

"You gonna eat that, or you just take it to play with?"

River tossed the biscuit high and Jayne sat up on the weight bench to snatch it from the air. He got up, leaned against the stack of crates she was sitting on, and broke it in half.

"Here. Eat this before a strong wind comes and blows you away."

"In the Black, atmospheric-oh," she finished, realizing he was making a jocular reference to her size.

"What are they talkin' about?"

She opened her mind to the currents above them. "More speculation on the girl. What is she made for? Is she dangerous?"

"Not talkin' about me, then?"

"Not the main concern, right now. Little girl fights the big man, doesn't go squish. Holds more interest."

"I don't go 'round squishing little girls, as a rule."

"Jayne has more rules than he lets on."

"Stay out of my head," he snapped. "Don't go gettin' all personal. We ain't friends."

"He needs to reassert boundaries. Holy man-"

"What did I _just_ say?"

River fell silent. Not knowing when to keep thoughts internal was an old problem. Having so many thoughts not her own just made it worse. For a few moments she worked on reinforcing the walls between her brain and the other brains on the ship.

"It's different for Jayne," she said, trying to work something out. "She hears things, knows things. Makes them..." She looked up toward the galley above. "Emotions scurry with many tiny feet, searching for-"

"Makes them all twitchy."

"Jayne is not twitchy. Angry. Always angry. But not twitchy, not fearful of this aspect."

He shrugged one shoulder. Part of her, somewhat removed from the conversation, admired it. She would come back to that later.

"Why ain't I scared o' you bein' a psychic an' all? I ain't sayin' I'm fine with it. A man should be able to keep his secrets without some moonbrained girl pokin' around in his head. But they as were makin' you, they made you a Reader for reason. It's a right handy skill."

"She feels neither handy nor skilled."

 _"She feels everything. She can't not."_ Simon's voice, from Jayne's brain. The girl lying in the chair with her insides on display. Not her memory, but his.

"Figure they were buildin' me for a sentry or somethin'," he said, his voice low. Struggle in the quality of his speech. "At first, I could hear so much, smell every damned thing. My eyes would just zoom in and focus on stuff like I didn't even tell 'em to. Damned unsettlin' it was. I couldn't-"

It was a feeling she got from him then. Always on alert for danger, always threatened. A spring over-wound, unable to release. The part he never learned to regulate.

"Well," he finished. "You'll get more used to it, time goes on. I 'spect."

"He as a sentry," she nodded. "What is she built for?"

His head tilted back. Not to look for the others, but just to look somewhere new and not at her. To stretch muscles, not fully conscious of the irony of exposing the throat when he the word "Assassin," dropped.

The word had flitted through the minds of the others for the past two weeks, a dark, slippery, double-edged blade of fear. They leapt away from it, then cringed, hoping it wouldn't come back.

In Jayne's mind it was a half-formed picture of a woman, dark but lithe, quick and keen. Strong. But when she tried to focus it blew away, a picture made of smoke.

"You know somethin' about me now," his voice broke into her thoughts. "I been knockin' around the Rim for years 'fore I landed on Serenity. It's a good set-up. Cap'n keeps his head down. Don't draw attention he can't help, and don't take no undue risks with my person. Ain't a lot of bosses got that kinda attitude about the help. An' I always gotta think like maybe there's someone still lookin' for me. It's what's kept me alive and free this long, and it's how I'm built. Now I gotta be worried about them who's lookin' for you. You're a threat to me, and I don't like it. I ain't made no secret about that."

She didn't have a reply, and it was probably best not to make one and have it be wrong.

"Ain't personal," he grumbled. She cracked open a metaphorical door that separated where she ended and he began, let some of him trickle in. Under his constant anxiety was concern, a hint of contrition. He...felt bad for making her feel bad? She shut the door. "Ain't like you can help what's lookin' for you, and seems the cap'n's set on keepin' 'em from ya, so..."

"No longer set. Leaning again, not committed. Concerned for the others. She may be a danger. Unknown parameters. Unpredictable. Assassin."

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't worry too much. It's still you versus the government, and that puts him on your side. Just don't knife anyone he actually likes."

It was on the tip of her tongue to explain about that, but his emotions crested again. She tasted the ashes of his shame and regret as his thoughts swirled around Ariel. He pushed them back and locked them away again.


	5. Chapter 5

"Jayne, where do you think you're goin'?"

There wasn't a single time Mal had said that ever ended well.

"I's thinkin' in the general direction of _out._ Didn't make up an i-tinery or nothin'."

"Oh no. You're here on River-watch tonight."

"What? Why I gotta stay?"

"Reckon it's your turn, first of all. Doc's got some special plan, I think, that we are not messin' up for little Kaylee. And they're already gone anyways. Zoe's with me to meet with the client, then she and Wash have plans."

"What about me? How come I ain't meetin' with the client?"

"Don't need you there. Need you here."

Jayne frowned. He almost always went on the meets to look intimidatin'. He didn't care much about not goin' before, but that was when he thought it meant more time at the bar. "How about after? You comin' back here?"

"I've got...things I need to see to while we're in town. Captainy things."

"Mal..."

"Look, I'm all in favor of Jayne havin' Jayne-time. Makes you a much easier person to share space with. Normally it's Book I'd leave her with, but you done chased him off with your mysterious fallin' out I can't know about-"

"You still sore about that?"

"Ain't sore, just tellin' you how it is. And no cigars."

 _Oh, you're still sore all right._ Jayne took another puff on the one he'd just lit. "We ain't on filters now."

"Not around the child. You'll stunt her growth."

"I hate to break it to you, Mal, but she ain't still growin'. Probly just gonna stay all scrawny like this no matter- Ow!"

"She is not scrawny," River told him.

"Well ya don't gotta hit so hard."

"Ready to go, sir." Zoe strode up, with Wash in tow.

"Shiny. Jayne, I expect everything in one piece when I get back. That goes for you, too, little girl. Don't break Jayne. Don't wanna be loadin' cargo by myself tomorrow."

"Understood, Captain," she told him.

Jayne just grunted. Wash's voice carried back to them, "Jayne's babysitting? Do we think that's wise?"

"She objects to the term 'babysitting,'" River sulked.

"Yeah, well, he objects to the job itself."

"Not a baby. Not a child. Not a child's mind, just... communication is faulty."

He grunted again, taking a long pull of his cigar and ruminatin' on what he was missin' now that he was stuck crazy-sitting.

She grabbed his chin and turned his head to face her, her grip hard on his goatee. "Not crazy, either. Damaged, but fully cognizant of the shared reality."

"Huh?" He had just barely managed pull back from slapping her all the way down the ramp.

"She understands real and not real. By definition, not insane."

"Yeah, shiny. But ya shouldn't oughta be grabbin' me." He pulled away from her grasp and the intensity of her dark eyes. "That don't show no kinda sense."

"Sorry." She pulled back from him and he suddenly felt like he could breathe again.

She kicked her heels against the side of the crate and stared off into the crowd on the docks while he smoked and thought about Book bein' there, and then not bein' there. The things he should have seen, should have asked.

"Regret tastes like ashes," she told him.

"You're too young to have regrets."

"Untrue. But it's not the girl's regrets that float past with the smoke."

He grunted. "Hey genius, ever consider it's the smoke makin' you think o' ashes?"

She looked over her shoulder and shot him with that _buhn dahn_ look he thought was reserved for Simon.

"You ready to go inside?"

She sighed. "To do what?"

"Got guns could use cleanin'."

"She is not allowed. 'No touching guns.'"

He stubbed out his cigar and chucked it outside before heading in. "Come on, girly. I'm gonna teach you about a thing called _rebellion_. And when your brother gets back, I'm gonna make him turn in his big brother card."

xxxxx

"The girl has a question."

"Seems to me the girl has a lot of questions."

She cracked open that door she'd erected to separate him from her. He wasn't angry-no more than his normal angry. Generalized, not directed at her. "His gruff manner is intended to discourage engagement."

He closed one eye and inspected the rifle bore he was cleaning. "Doesn't seem to be workin' too shiny. Is that the question?"

"No."

"Did you forget what to do?"

She looked down at the pieces in front of her. She had a vague almost-memory of having touched them before. Even spread out, she could see how they would fit, how the moving parts would work even when they were hidden from view. "She is not confused about the task."

He put down his tools and looked at her, huffing out a breath that sounded of exasperation. "Am I supposed to guess?"

She frowned. What had she missed? "The camaraderie of the shared task created at tacit agreement that questions could be asked without permission?"

"Huh?" He held up his hand and shook his head. "No, don't explain. You got a question, just ask it. If I don't wanna answer it I won't. If I don't like ya askin' it in the first place, I'll snap atcha. Then maybe you'll think twice about it next time."

She nodded. "An efficient system."

He picked up his parts and started fitting things back together, sure and swift with long practice. Another efficient system.

"I ain't a Reader, girl."

 _That means Jayne is waiting for the question._ "Jayne said, in the infirmary, 'I put myself back together.' How is that accomplished?"

He sighed heavily, rubbing the heel of his hand across his forehead, leaving a streak of greasy soot. "It took a long time. And it was messy. I was messy. You know I ain't no good at talkin' 'bout stuff."

She cleared her throat significantly.

A grin pulled at the corner of his mouth, just for an instant, but he sucked it back into his scowl. "Yeah, well, you wanna be better at communicatin', that's not hard to improve. When you're talkin' about yourself, you say I and me. When you're talkin' to the other person you say you. Not Jayne an' River, him n' her. You and I. That's number one. That alone'll have you soundin' at least 70% saner."

"His num-Your numbers are arbitrary with no basis in actual data."

"That's number two. Quit usin' all those complicated words. You want to tell me I'm pullin' numbers outta my _pi gu_ , you say that."

She nodded. "Appropriate pronouns and simplified vocabulary for clearer communication. Increased use of slang for cultural conformity."

They were silent. The fact that he didn't really answer her question hung in the air between them. He'd said, 'If I don't wanna answer it, I won't.' So she couldn't ask again. Maybe it didn't matter. There were similarities, parallels could be drawn, but those lines wouldn't necessarily lead to equivalent results. But if he did have the secret, if something he could tell her could help her find her way through... Frustration, desperation, braided with uncertainty.

"Listen, girlie." His fingers pried hers from around a gun barrel, but he left it in her open palm. It glistened and swam in a blur of tears that filled, but didn't spill. "We ain't simple like this."

She kept looking at it, at the smooth metal tube resting on her hand, at her hand resting on his. He moved closer, and his chair scraped across the floor. His knees brushed the side of her leg.

"You take a gun apart, it's always the same. Different models got different parts, yeah, but there's things they all got in common. People's like that, too, I guess." He huffed. Frustrated with his own inability to communicate. Also uncertain. Embarrassed. He started putting pieces together, methodically, almost rhythmically. "Point is, you break down a gun, you're always gonna have the same pieces. Every time you do it, they're gonna be the same pieces, same size, gonna fit right back together the same way. Unless you done somethin' stupid, it's probly not gonna blow up in your face."

He finished putting the pistol together, and she knew he was collecting his thoughts. He dry fired it, turned it this way that, inspecting, then wiped it with a rag and set it back on the table.

"They tried to make us into weapons, but we ain't like this. When you break us down it's messy. Like smashing a dish. All jagged edges, missing pieces."

"Try to glue it back together, before Mother sees. Make it new again. But sometimes bits are missing. Splinters and shards."

"That's right. It ain't never gonna be the way it was."

A sob bubbled up, and she put up a hand to cover it. She swallowed it back down again. "He gave up everything. It's so important to him that she-that _I_ -get better. That I get back to who I was."

"That ain't necessarily the same thing, is it? Maybe you can get to a point of pretendin' that, but you ain't never gonna be that girl again. Just don't make no sense that you would be. Doc needs to accept that. Stop pumpin' you full of drugs every time he sees something he don't wanna see."

This time there was no stopping the sob that tore out of her. She covered her face with her hands and turned away. She wanted that so much, to stop the ever shifting rounds of medicines long enough to take stock. To examine the pieces as they were. But Simon didn't understand.

"Hey, now, don't do that."

"They hear words but not the meanings. Ramblings discounted, dismissed. Never a person. There, 'the subject.' Here, crazy, moonbrained, poor sweet broken girl. Never a person. Never River again."

She was yanked from her seat onto his lap, viced against him. His arms to crush the things she was saying. Recognition and denial spraying out of him, beating around them with angry wings.

"Be River if you want. Be someone else if you want. Just gonna take time is all. Gonna be messy. Gonna hurt some."

Her hands twisted in his shirt, her face pressed to his neck. Smoke, gun oil, the scent that was Jayne. Heat and skin. She couldn't get close enough. "Hurts all the time."

Rage, a hail of black sharp arrows. Smothering sorrow. Ashes. Choking on ashes.

She shoved and was released so fast she fell to the floor. She crawled, trying to get some space. He rose, knocking over the chair, took a step forward with one hand outstretched.

"Stop," she gasped, trying to hold her brain inside her skull "you have to stop."

"Stop what?!"

"Too angry. Too much...angry."

"Girl, if I knew how to stop bein' angry," he muttered.

He turned back to the table and swiped up Vera. Methodically, rhythmically, he broke her down into parts. River watched the movements of his shoulders as he gave himself to the task, as the sharpness receded to a dull throb of guilt and foggy confusion.

He rose from the table and came for her, pulled her up by the wrist and put her in the chair. "Your turn. Put her back together." But her hands were shaking, so he stood behind and moved them for her. Rebuilding Vera, sure, steady movements, pieces clicking into place. "Focus," he said, voice deep and calm against her ear. "If you can't block it out, you have to find a focus. _Dong ma?_ "

She nodded and his hands fell away.

"You finish it." As she did, he moved around and squatted down by her chair. "I'm sorry. For a lot of things, and I ain't about makin' you a list. Reckon you know it anyway."

She fit the last piece together and turned to him. "Not his fault."

"Some of it is. I could be better'n what I am. I know that. At some point I found good enough and just stopped tryin'."

"He was exhausted." She knew that, the soul-deep tired of trying to be someone when you didn't know who you were.

His eyes narrowed a little, a faint rebuke at being read. "Yeah, well, I'm tired now. Wash your face and go to bed. I'll clean up."

"Wash _your_ face." She pulled her sleeve over the heel of her hand and rubbed it across his forehead. She showed him the black mark.

"How long's that been there?" He rubbed his arm over the spot, checked it.

She laughed at look on his face, the taste of ashes wiped clean by it, and leaned down to press her lips against the consternation creased into his forehead. Too quick to breathe him in before she had to pull away.

Embarrassment rising, but also pleasure. A drop that rippled. Not hers but his.

She moved away, headed for the door, unwilling to make a mistake by saying the wrong thing.

"G'night, River."

xxxxx

 _buhn dahn-_ idiot


	6. Chapter 6

Jayne reached up for the highest rung of the ladder on his hatch cover and let himself hang for a minute, pulling out some of the kinks in his shoulders. He was wound up tighter than a spinster in a burly-q. Maybe he could get in a set o' pullups in the hold before the cargo got there. A night off this gorram ship woulda gone a long way to fixin' him up. He was blamin' Mal for that.

"Captainy things my lily white ass," he muttered. "What captainy things gotta be done on Persephone, at night, 'cept seein' to Little Cap'n One-eye? Man's gonna go off whorin', he oughta have the goods to just say it."

"What's that, Jayne?" Zoe asked.

"Nothin'. Talkin' to myself."

"Well, that's...new," Wash said, "and possibly worrisome."

Jayne growled and they walked away toward the galley.

He put his feet to the rungs and climbed out of his bunk to follow them to breakfast. At least he hadn't spent the night on the couch in the lounge. Simon had woken him up, feathers all a-ruffly about Jayne bein' in the passenger dorm with River. Jayne had snapped back he knew enough 'bout babysittin' to know you don't leave a kid halfway across a ship where's you can't hear 'em, 'specially one has nightmares and tends to play with dangerous things. Put the Doc right in his place.

"What are you smilin' about?" Mal accused him as soon as he walked into the galley.

"Had me a right pleasant dream about this about this double-jointed whore I used to know. I'll tell you about it over breakfast," he said, moving to the kitchen area to get a bowl of protein mash.

"Uh...no," Mal said.

"I'm kind of interested in hearing about the..." Wash's sentence trailed off at the look on his wife's face, "the...evening last night. What was had between Kaylee and the doctor. Where is the doctor?"

"Evenin' was fine," Kaylee said, not looking up from her bowl. She snapped out 'fine' in the clipped girl-tone let everyone know it was absolutely not fine. 'Specially Wash who was mighty familiar with the tone and shrank back in an unmanly fashion.

"Simon is a boob," River stated from Jayne's right.

"Again?" Wash looked from River to Kaylee. Since Kaylee was still lookin' in her bowl, Wash looked back to River again.

"Tasted more foot than food," River told him.

She was sittin' too close this mornin'. There was River-scent all over his shirt from last night, all girly and unfamiliar. Wakin' up to it was all kinds of unsettlin'. Now it was gettin' on his breakfast. He leaned away to refocus his senses.

"Does seem to have it in his mouth an awful lot," Wash agreed.

"Sure he didn't mean nothin' by it," Zoe drawled. "Man gets around a woman he finds attractive, he gets all kinds o' stupid."

Jayne hid his grin. He loved watching Zoe get her digs in on Mal, especially when Mal actually noticed, which was now.

"Yes, all kinds of stupid." Wash tried to be all soothin' to Kaylee, who didn't seem to want no part of it. "Take me for example."

Kaylee pushed her bowl away. "I got work," she bit out, and headed out to the engine room.

"Jayne, we got that cargo to load this mornin'," Mal said, like it needed sayin'.

Jayne grunted and reached for Kaylee's half-finished breakfast.

"Are we taking on passengers, sir?" Zoe asked.

"Got too much goin' on right now, don't feel comfortable with strangers on my boat."

"Understood, sir."

They were still talking out the flight plan to Boros when Jayne dumped his bowls in the kitchen and hit the stairs for the cargo hold. Halfway down he turned to ask the moon-girl-River why she was followin' him, only to have her step right into his space.

"The Captain went looking for Inara last night."

"That what he was doin'?" Jayne asked tightly. She was two steps above and leaning into him, gripping his shoulders so she could put her mouth right close to his ear. He felt like he didn't know what to do with his hands, even though he knew they were supposed to stay at his sides.

"Didn't find her. He is volatile. Tread lightly."

He couldn't step away, that would pull her off balance and have her landing on him. And he sure couldn't step closer. "Good advice," he muttered, and his voice was thick and hoarse. "Thanks."

She pushed back from him. "She has to find Simon. Important matters to discuss."

"I," he corrected. " _I_ have to have to find Simon."

"What d'you need to see the doc for, Jayne?" Mal asked, clomping down toward them. "Somethin' wrong?"

"Uh, no. I's just..."

" _I_ need to speak with Simon, Captain. Also to work on my speech, so's I can sound more normal-like."

Mal's mouth twitched at her Rim-drawl, which was gorram unnatural, but real cute. "Jayne coachin' you on that, is he? She starts cussin' at me, I'm gonna have to space ya. You know that, right?"

"Why's everything always gotta be my fault?"

"I frequently ask that my own self," Mal told him, and moved past them to the hold, calling back over his shoulder, "Cargo's not gonna load itself, Jayne!"

xxxxx

"Jayne!" Simon stormed into the hold, all ruffly again.

Him an' Mal were close to finishin' up the job o' gettin' the crates out out of the way and secured for the trip. It didn't escape his notice that River slipped in behind the doc. She glided up the stairs to the catwalk. "Yeah, Doc?"

"Did you use a metaphor on my sister?"

"I ain't never touched her!" He felt his face get hot. "Hand to God, Mal."

"A literary construct. A seemingly unrelated concept used for comparison to illustrate a greater truth," River explained, all unhelpful.

"Something about the difference between people, guns, and dishes?" Simon supplied, his voice rising. "That ring any bells?"

"You told him what I said?"

"She gave me load of ape-witted nonsense before she refused to let me give her her medicine this morning."

"River," Mal's voice took on his commanding tone, "go find somewhere else to be so's these two can argue about you."

"But-"

"Now, please. I'll stay and referee."

"The captain is the soul of impartiality," she told Mal, as she stomped down the steps again.

Jayne pointed at the captain. "He's 'you' when you're talking at 'im, genius."

"You," she poked a finger in the center of Jayne's chest, "no hitting." Then she flounced out again.

"Was she always this bratty?" Mal asked.

"Actually yes," Simon said.

"So you knew that _before_ the whole rescue thing?"

"Can we get back to the point about Jayne being a bad influence on my sister and interfering with her medical treatment?"

"All I did was babysit, like I's told, so's you could go out an' screw things up with Kaylee again."

"Jayne..." Mal warned. "Look, Doc, this seems like a thing between you and your sister."

"Or between River and her doctor," Jayne said. Mal looked at him all quizzical-like. "I'm just sayin', was any one of us wanted to have a say in gettin' pumped up with drugs all time, we'd probly get one. 'Ceptin' maybe myself, since seems like it's okay to let the doc dope me whenever it's convenient, but that ain't the issue."

"What is the issue, Jayne?"

"He's saying that, by combining my positions as both River's guardian and her physician, I'm overstepping," Simon explained, with a narrowing of his eyes that made Jayne nervous. "He's implying that River should have a voice in her treatment plan."

"Is that what you're saying, Jayne?"

"She don't like the meds, Mal. She just wants to get clear o' the drugs for a bit. See where she is without all that _go shi_ in her system."

"This is quite a talk you had," Mal commented. "Doc, that don't sound as unreasonable as it ought to, comin' from Jayne."

"The drugs are keeping her calm. Stable."

"She ain't exactly what I'd call stable," Mal said.

"You said 'keep her calm.'"

"He ain't said to keep her doped up so's she can't even talk straight," Jayne snapped.

"That's the neural stripping. I explained that."

"Maybe it is, maybe it ain't. Maybe that's only part of it. You can't say that for sure as long as you keep her doped."

"Captain," Simon drew himself up in his most Core-i-fied way, "I object to the use of the term 'doped,' and to discussing my sister's treatment with your hired thug."

"You started this discussion, Doc," Mal pointed out, and Jayne made a face at Simon over Mal's shoulder, which was maybe not the smartest thing.

"I'm walking a tightrope, Captain. I'm trying to figure out what was done and how to fix it. She should be in the best hospital, with the latest imagers and medications, with a staff of the best minds consulting on her case together. But it's just me, in a cramped little sickbay, on a ship that spends most of its time in the middle of nowhere."

"I'm gonna choose not to take any of that personal," Mal grumbled.

"Meanwhile, there's the warrants, bounty hunters, the constant threat the Alliance is going to catch up with us. And then there's the safety of the ship and the crew to consider. Beyond the fact you've made it abundantly clear that you'll turn us over if she hurts the crew, believe it or not, I actually care about that without the threat."

"Ain't never said you don't," Mal shot back, but in that over-defensive way seemed like he felt he was in the wrong somehow.

Simon pinched the bridge of his nose. "I apologize for my outburst, Captain. I believe the best course of action is to keep adjusting her medications until I find something that really works. However, ethically speaking, River should have a say in her treatment. Of course, there's also the matter of her being a danger to herself and others. In that case, the law supports the rights of family and medical professionals to determine course of treatment."

"Could we maybe get the short version, Doc?"

"I continue to medicate her against her will, River is unhappy. I don't medicate her and we run the risk of harm to River or the crew. Who decides, the physician, patient, the brother, or the captain?"

"I can't have her endangerin' my ship an' crew. 'Smy job to see things run smooth."

Jayne manfully suppressed a snort. "She's one little girl."

"One little girl with an unknown knowledge of firearms and creepifyin' accuracy, who can go hand to hand against you."

"I wasn't hardly tryin'."

"She's an unknown quantity, Jayne. I think the Doc's right. If she is dangerous, at least the drugs slow her down, minimize the threat. Not like you can watch her every minute of the day."

"Hell, Mal, I ain't got nothin' better t' do."

Both men turned slowly to look at him. Somehow, that was the wrong thing to say, he just wasn't sure why. Or why he'd said it.

"This is what crazy feels like," Mal said. "Did you just volunteer for babysitting?"

"Well why not? Ain't like it's hard. She loses it, I'm the one you want handlin' things anyway. Things go south, I'm more or less expendable."

"I didn't say that," Mal said.

"You're always sayin' that, one way or another. Ain't gotta start worryin' about my feelin's now."

"And your temper? I gotta worry about that?"

"I know your temper'll space me the minute I lay an unkind hand to the girl 's not warranted."

"'S true. He does know that," Mal told Simon.

"Are we...seriously considering this?"

"Well look here, Doc. You've presented me with this ethical dilemma, now let me explain somethin' to you. Back there on the Core, folk don't have much problem tellin' other folk how to be their best selves, and makin' sure they do it. But out here, there's some as tend to think a body ought to be free to make his, or her, decisions for his, or her, own self."

Jayne grinned. It was all over for the doc now. Mal reached up to straighten the lapel o' his coat. His _brown_ coat. He wasn't wearin' it, on accounta he took it off to move cargo, but the doc didn't miss the movement.

"And what about you? What do you get out of this?" Simon asked him.

"You came out here tryin' to pick a fight with me, I figure I'm about to win it," Jayne told him. Winnin' was all kinds o' shiny.

"You think so, huh?" Simon asked him in a way that put the shininess in question. He turned back to Mal. "Very well, Captain. I'll speak to River and inform her of her treatment options. It may be that, once I explain the side effects of withdrawal, and the burden of the extra time she'll have to spend with the ape-man, she'll choose my course of medication as the lesser evil. I'll let you know what she decides."

"You do that," Mal told him.

Simon turned on his heel and stalked out.

Mal turned on Jayne. "And you can wipe that smirk off your face. Don't know if you've had little sisters, but just might be you've bitten off more'n you can chew."

"Doc makes it look so easy n' all," Jayne said easily, rolling his eyes as he got back to work.

Mal shook his head. "I respect the man, for what he's done for his sister, for the line he's tryin' to walk out here. But I'll admit, he's hard to like when he gets all Core gent on ya. You wanna know the best way to get back at the Doc?"

Jayne was suspicious. Weren't like Mal to give him tips on revenge. "How's that?"

"Make him grateful to ya. It'll make him all kinds o' uncomfortable."

xxxxx

burly-q- burlesque, show featuring scantily clad dancers


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own Firefly or the Bible.

xxxxx

"I see Jayne, but I don't see a little crazy person. Why is that?" Mal asked when Jayne entered the galley.

"She was with me the whole time I was liftin' weights. Went to go take shower. She knows where I am."

"But do you know where she is?"

"Still waitin' in the hold, I guess."

"You're not supposed to guess. She's off her meds, you're supposed to know. That was the deal."

"Come on, Mal, they ain't hardly had time to wear off yet."

"Then this is a good time to practice this fine new responsibility you took on. You take a break, you get someone else to watch her, _dong ma?_ "

Jayne fought the urge to argue or roll his eyes. That would just wind Mal up, and, fun as that could be, he didn't feel like it. "You want me to go find her, or you want me to stay here and get lectured some more?" Well, maybe he felt like it a little bit.

"Do I need to remind you this was your idea? And the more I think on that, the more I wonder why I agreed to this."

"Somethin' to do with the rights o' the individual."

"Do you even know what that means?"

"Sure I do, Mal. I'm a big fan. Can I go now?"

"Go."

Jayne sauntered down the steps to the cargo hold. If she wasn't where he left her, she was probably in her room. Mal's drama. If there weren't problems, he'd make problems.

And there she was, right where he left her, just walkin' across the hold.

Away from the haphazard pile of cargo they'd stacked this morning that was now in the airlock.

And she was headed for the control box.

 _Wo cao._

As soon as the decision was made to stop her, she sped up. Jayne threw himself over the railing and launched himself at her, barely making it in time to stop her, but taking them both to the floor. He held her tight to his chest as they rolled.

He made sure he ended up on top, and raised up only slightly to make sure she could breathe. "What in the _ai yah tien ah_ do you think you're doing?"

Her answer was to head butt him in the throat, and take advantage of his choking to wriggle out and go for the control box again. He lashed out and grabbed her ankle before she had both feet under her and yanked hard, dumping her back to the ground, dragging her back toward him as he coughed and gasped and climbed up her body.

This time, he didn't worry about whether she could breathe, or whether the back of her head made contact with the floor. He concentrated on getting a grip on the arms that were punching him in the head. But this wasn't the same girl who'd matched him blow for blow just a few nights ago. She was savage but wild, uncontrolled and uncoordinated.

"River," he rasped, pinning her wrists to the floor over her head. "River! Tell me what it's about. You wanna space the cargo? Tell me why I should help you."

She stopped fighting so hard, but the tension was still, braced to beat the hell out of him the moment he let his guard down. "Boxes of intention in pouches and paper packets."

"Huh?"

"The beanstalk grows out of proportion, and the giant climbs down. Giant who hoards treasures and eats children." Her eyes were too wide and wouldn't settle on him, darted around like she was dreamin' with 'em open.

"There's no giant in them crates. That's a load o' seed. We're takin' it to Boros."

"'Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also also reap."

"Reap what you sow. That's a Bible thing, ain't it?" He stroked his thumbs up her wrists, into the palms of her hands that were curled like claws.

"Yes. Book of Book contains many contradictions, but this is a sound aphorism."

"I don't know what that is, or what it's got to do with seed, but you can't space Mal's cargo, or he's gonna send me out there to get it. Without a suit, most likely, _dong ma?_ " At least usin' those big words of hers seemed to calm her down a little.

Her eyes finally connected with his, filled with tears as the fight drained out of her. "But the seed is tainted by the giant."

He growled. "No, it ain't." This was too much trouble. They musta let him hit his head when they doped him, that's why he'd agreed to this. "You done fightin' yet?"

"She is sorry."

"That's not what I asked."

"She yields."

He cleared his throat.

"I yield," she corrected.

He moved off of her quickly, case she got any ideas about using her knees on his more delicate parts, but he didn't want to let go of her wrists yet, in case she was inclined to hit him and go for the control box again. He pulled her to sit up.

"Altered from its natural state. Doesn't grow true."

"It's 'cause all the terraform worlds're a different from each other. They alter the seeds so's they'll do what they're s'posed to."

"Seeds used to come from plants. Now plants have no seeds and seeds come from crates. Nothing thrives under the blue sun."

"Yeah, well, you don't like seedless veggies ain't no reason to get me in trouble with the captain."

"That's..." she looked confused. "There was more."

"More what?"

"Just...more."

"Shiny. I gotta put these crate back the way we had 'em 'fore Mal decides to take a stroll. Think you can behave while I do that?"

River nodded and Jayne slid is hands from her wrists, slowly, suspiciously. He unfolded himself from the floor, took a step toward the airlock, then stopped. "Go sit over there."

She was going to argue, or at least make a face, but she held it back. His caution had validity from his perspective. She went to go sit on the steps to the catwalk, far away from the control box.

"How did you manage to get all of these moved by yourself in such a short time?" he asked, setting the first two down near her. "Some of them probably weigh as much as you do."

"She was motivated." A Blue Sun label with a curled corner begged to be torn off, but he was watching. "What was it like, when Jayne was new?"

"When I's what? And mind the pronouns."

"When you were altered from your natural state."

He frowned at her. Confusion. Then the deeper scowl of annoyance. "I already done told ya about that."

He moved back and forth more quickly than he had with the captain that morning, carrying heavier loads. He glanced frequently toward the stairs and entry to the lounge. Jayne was motivated. And sweaty. She considered helping, but probability spoke to her help being unwelcome.

"It didn't happen all at once," he muttered.

Her head popped up in surprise and she was glad his back was turned so he wasn't thrown off by it.

"At first it seemed like a pretty good place to be. First night, maybe, I was on my guard, but after that I slept hard. Didn't have to keep one eye open no more. They woke us up early, sure, but I woke up in a bed, didn't I? Had clothes didn't smell like a trash heap, had three meals a day to look forward to... Seemed like anything they asked us to do was a small price to pay for that. Run, hike, push-ups, I didn't care. Didn't much like schoolin' but it weren't so bad. Went on like that for a while, then some o' us got moved. Less schoolin', more exercise, weapons trainin', and that set just fine with me. It was like they was givin' me more o' the stuff I was good at, so's I could get better. There's kids who complained about it, 'bout all the work, 'bout them bein' too strict, but I just figured those kids ain't never really been hungry before, and nice for them."

"Why were you hungry?"

"I'm always hungry. Ain't you noticed?"

 _Evasion. 'If I don't wanna answer, I won't.' Repeated inquiry will not be welcomed._

"Used to live in a whorehouse before that." All the crates were out of the airlock, but he started pulling them down and restacking them. Rearranging. "With my mama-the one what gave birth to me. Don't remember too much about it. Liked it, mostly. Not many kids, so I got plenty of attention. Sometimes I had to spend time in the closet while my mama entertained." He shrugged. "Smelled real nice. Like flowers an' other girl stuff. Cigar smoke an' alcohol. But then..."

He stopped and terror shot through her. Grabby hands and a slack-jawed leer.

 _'They got boy whores,'_ Kaylee's voice observed in her head. _'How thoughtful.'_

The bolt of terror faded to disgust and a lingering, greasy shame. "Anyways, I decided I didn't wanna be there no more, so I lit out. Wasn't really nowhere to go, though. Didn't have any kinda plan when I left. Wasn't smart enough to steal anything on my way out, so I didn't have any money. That's why I was hungry. Never was too smart."

 _Ta ma de, shut_ up. His thought was as clear in her head as if it were hers, and she wasn't peeking. Needed to steer the reminiscence or it would be cut off.

"Hierarchal needs," she observed. "Phase one, physiological. Shelter, clothing, food. Phase two, security. Employment in activities that promoted self worth. Phase three?"

"Conditioning. Work got harder. Sometimes we ran 'til we dropped. Sometimes we didn't get to sleep. Sometimes we didn't get fed. Other stuff, 'spect you know." He shrugged. "Lots of weird vids. And they started putting us in smaller groups around that time. Had to help each other. Everyone finishes or no one eats. Learned to work as a team."

"Why did he leave?"

"Phase four. Human pincushion. Lots of needles, lots of drugs. Made us sick a lot. Took a lot of tests. Failed a lot. They didn't like that. Then there was one that...woke up feelin' like my skin been peeled off. Only that weren't it, exactly, it was just...different. Like how I told ya before. And then it was worse, all the vids, gettin' locked in the dark alone, makin' it so's you can't sleep, starvin' ya. All o' that, but with your senses goin' haywire so's you don't know which way's up or what they even want from you anymore. So that's when we left. When we had to."

High probabilities that he was finished talking to her, and that a physical embrace would be rejected. Despite the equally high probability that physical contact was both needed and desired.

"She is hungry," she commented, nonchalant, and headed for the stairs to the galley.

" _I'm_ hungry," he corrected.

"You are always hungry. "

He growled as he hurried to replace the last of the crates. She started up the stairs, but twisted, in an artful imitation of clumsiness, and slid, bouncing down the metal treads. He was there in an instant. "Gorram it, girl, why don't you wear shoes?"

"Twisted her ankle," she told him, wincing.

He started to take hold of her leg, but pulled his hands back. Instead he scooped her into his arms. "Better have your brother take a look."

He held her close against his chest as he set off for the infirmary.

There had been a 98% probability that he would.

xxxxx

 _wo cao-_ I'm fucked

 _ai yah tien ah-_ merciless hell


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Shockingly, no one has signed the rights to this thing over to me. Does that seem right to you?

 **xxxxx**

"River, how are you this morning?" Simon asked at breakfast.

"She is operating within normal parameters."

Jayne cleared his throat.

" _I_ am operat-"

Jayne cleared his throat again.

"I am fine," she told Simon. After a pause she added, "Thank you."

Simon's eyes darted between them for a moment, but Jayne never looked up from his protein mash. He generally showed intense interest in his morning meal, but today other flavors swirled about him, clouding his usual anger and alert tension. Confusing.

"River, I think you can do the dishes today."

"Aw, come on, Mal, what'd she do?" Jayne demanded.

"Ain't a punishment, Jayne, not that I gotta explain myself to you. We all take turns, and it just occurred to me that the lil' miss has been left out of the joys of dish washin' for long enough. That seem fair to you, little girl?"

"Yes, Captain. She...thank you for including me."

Mal nodded, then frowned. "Simon, ain't it your job to contradict and generally annoy me with regards to your sister? _Not_ Jayne's?"

Simon looked confused, but Jayne drawled, "Aw, Mal, I'm always happy to lend a hand when it comes to contradictin' and annoyin' you."

"Well I think it's real nice," Kaylee beamed at Jayne, "you takin' up for River an' all." The smug warmth Jayne felt at Kaylee's approval spilled onto River's breakfast. "You two seem to be gettin' along real nice. Ain't it nice, Simon?"

Simon frowned, confused and disturbed before his eyes swung to Kaylee. Then he wiped the frown off his face and got flustered as he tried to agree with her. "Uh...I...guess?"

"Jayne ain't nice," Jayne grunted to his bowl.

Wash opened his mouth, but Zoe elbowed him in the gut. "Didn't you have some calculations to check on the bridge, dear?"

"That I did, my autumn flower." He kissed her cheek and went to work.

Breakfast broke up. River and Jayne gathered the dishes left on the table and brought them over to the kitchen area. "You even know how to wash dishes, fancy Core girl?"

She gave him an arch look. "I have observed. I believe I can perform the procedure adequately."

"Shiny. I'll supervise."

"Supervision can be accomplished concurrent with assistance," she pointed out, making it a request and picking up the drying cloth to hand over. Then she thought better of it. Mal had given this chore to her, to allow her to contribute like the others. And she had doubled Jayne's workload yesterday by moving the cargo. The Blue Sun labels flashed in her mind and she pushed back against them to refocus on Jayne. Normally he'd be off exercising or cleaning weapons. She frowned. The bargain Jayne made with Simon and the Captain did not provide him adequate compensation. "Neither is required."

Jayne shrugged, pulling the cloth out from under her hand. "Won't kill me."

"She monopolizes Jayne's time. Babysitter. Crazy-sitter."

"You don't like that." Something flicked out at her, ugly and uncomfortable, but it was behind the door and reined in before she could identify it.

"Not a baby. Not crazy."

"Bodyguard, then. Get washin'."

She started filling the basin with hot water and added what seemed like a reasonable amount of soap. She had removed the label containing the instructions. "My bodyguard?"

"Done it before. Amounts to the same thing. If it's just the name that bothers you, call it that."

"Protect the crew from the girl. Protect the girl from herself. She monopolizes time and internal resources."

"'S what the gunhand does. Ain't got nothin' important to do on the ship between jobs." He plucked a bowl from her hands and dried it. "I guard the ship, guard the cargo, guard the crew. Bodyguard the captain on the job, but ain't got nothin' to do the rest of the time 'lessin' somethin' goes wrong. Which maybe happens more with Mal than it would with someone had a half-decent streak o' luck and a better criminal disposition, but I ain't bein' kept from nothin'." He paused, but she knew it wasn't her turn to speak. Something was trying to find its way. "I ain't...Look, I know I ain't a person folk generally choose to keep comp'ny with. Your brother said maybe you'd choose the drugs over puttin' up with me. That's the problem, maybe you can work out something else. Maybe Zoe." He thunked the bowl into rack and yanked the next one out of her hand.

She ignored probabilities and slammed herself against his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist. His heart pounded. The door between them blew open and she walked into Jayne.

Anger, resentment, doubt, rejection, shame, embarrassment, confusion...standing in a swirling, ugly storm. She tucked her head and held on to that hard beating in the center of it. "She is sorry. Communication is faulty."

The storm eased back a bit, pushed aside by surprise, pleasure, discomfort, another wave of doubt. "I didn't say I wouldn't help ya no more. With, you know, what I know, just-"

"What's this?" Mal demanded.

River turned to the captain, wanting to keep his attention off Jayne's guilty, defensive posture before that turned into an argument of some kind. "Jayne helps with the chore. But shouldn't." She plucked the towel out of his hands. "It's my job."

"Whatever. Mal, if you got a minute, I'd like to go to my bunk, grab a magazine, _change my shirt_." He pulled at the wetness on his back.

"Sure," Mal said absently, in the tone of whatever. He flopped down in the crash area as Zoe came in to join him. Jayne's storm faded as he walked away.

River moved through the dishes faster on her own, sorting through the things the storm brought. Jayne was embarrassed about what he'd told her. It hurt him to think his company was rejected. Jayne was accustomed to being around people, but not being sought out. Jayne paid for female companionship, but didn't encourage unpaid relationships. Complexity of reasons there. Book had sought out Jayne's company, but Book was not what he seemed. Jayne didn't want any of this to matter. It mattered more than he realized.

Even if she rejected him, he would still help her. Assistance not conditional on acceptance.

"...answer to Kaylee." Mal was talking to her.

"What, Captain?"

"I said if you waste so much water the filters need replacin', you'll have to answer to Kaylee."

"Sorry, sir."

"Did you hear that, Zoe? She called me sir."

xxxxx

Jayne yanked off his shirt and collapsed on his bunk. He couldn't keep Mal waiting, but he needed a minute. Gorram handsy girl, and now he had another shirt smelled like River. Probly just gonna have to get used to it for a while.

He'd been in _every man for himself_ mode for a long time, and it suited him just fine. He'd had no moral qualms about ignorin' the possibility he might know something that could help the girl-he wasn't the sort for havin' moral qualms. It was Book that screwed him up. Having River in the room when he'd talked to he old man had given Jayne an _us against them_ perspective that didn't seem to be wearin' off.

Couldn't hurt nothin', is what he'd thought. But next thing, he's tellin' her more than anybody needs to know about him. Ever. Then he's gettin' his feelin's all hurt thinkin' she doesn't want him around.

 _Jayne Cobb don't get hurt feelin's._

He'd been hidin' a long time, pushin' back at anyone who got too close, then just pushing so's no one tried. He was a man who valued his privacy, and he'd signed on to babysit a Reader. And one who couldn't control herself at that, which was as much as throwing privacy right out the window. No one would blame him if he took it back, said the girl was too much trouble.

Cursing long and eloquently, he rolled off the bed. When he pulled open the laundry hatch, a cloud of River hit him in the face. He stuffed the latest casualty in, thinkin' maybe he could ask Inara for some incense. _Suck it up. Refocus and adapt._

He pulled out a neatly rolled clean t-shirt and pulled it on, grabbed up a couple firearms magazines he hadn't exhausted yet, and climbed back out of his bunk.

In the passenger lounge, he stretched out on the couch, putting his boots up on the table. She curled in the chair beside him, her bare feet tucked under her, and started sketching in a book.

"His thoughts are loud," she said, not looking up.

"Whose?"

"Yours. Can't not hear."

"When somethin's overwhelmin' you, or your focus is stuck on somethin' you don't wanna be stuck on, you gotta find somethin' else to put your mind to."

"You focus on breakfast."

"People smell in the mornin'. Either show up just rolled outta bed, smellin' like sleep, an' sweat, an' whatever they were drinkin' the night before, or they're all freshly scrubbed and smellin' like chemical soap, chemical fake strawberry mango whatever- I ain't even awake yet, and I gotta put up with a full frontal assault like that? Protein mash ain't one of the world's most enticin' scents, but it's nice and plain, so that's what I focus on. Helps me ignore the other stuff."

"Purposeful focus on less intense stimulus to circumvent sensory overload."

"Sure. Try that," he said, flipping pages.

"Jayne?" she said quietly, into the silence.

"Yeah?"

"She apologizes for invading his privacy. He's a private man. She promises not to reveal his secrets."

It was on the tip of his tongue to threaten her, but he looked over at her first. She was all tiny and female. And besides that she looked...off somehow.

"You feelin' okay?"

"Tired. Sleep is disturbed. Simon warned of side effects."

"What side effects?"

"Agitation, confusion, insomnia, convulsions, decreased lucidity."

 _Don't know what lucidity is, but the rest sounds like just a normal day._

"Lucid is the opposite of crazy. And she told Simon it would be no different."

"That list we got goin' of things make you sound crazy? Add 'talkin' on stuff people only said in their heads.'" He said it mean. That needed to stop.

She looked confused for a second. "She is sorry. She is tired."

"Then maybe she should go take a nap."

She nodded, put the book and pencil by his feet and unfolded herself from the chair. He was purposely lookin' away when she stepped over his legs and sat on the couch beside him. She stretched out, arranging herself on her side with her head, not quite in his lap, but pressed up against his thigh, which was close enough to where she shouldn't oughta be. If he had any sense, he'd just get up and move t' the chair.

But it felt kind of sweet, havin' her cuddled up like that. Wasn't like it was hurtin' anybody.

Wasn't like he seemed to have a full ration o' sense this week.

She slept hard, not even flinchin' when the doc detoured on his way to the infirmary and started pointin' and making high-pitched, unmanly noises. Finally he managed to ask, " _What_ is going on here?"

"I ain't killed her yet, if that's what you're thinkin'. Can't you tell the difference between someone dead and just sleepin'? What kind of medical school was that you say you went to?"

"But why is she doing it there? In your _lap_?"

"Why's she do anything she does? She said she's tired because goin' off the medicine made her not sleep. So I said 'take a nap.' You want to wake her up an' move her, it don't make no difference to me."

Jayne lifted his magazine again to show Simon he was dismissed. Simon made a disgusted noise in his throat.

Jayne cracked his magazine. "This baby-sittin' thing is so exhaustin'," he drawled, just loud enough for the doc to hear as he stomped back to the infirmary.

It was just to spite Simon that Jayne dropped his hand and ran it over River's hair.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Sorry about yesterday. There was a birthday and a party, a migraine and a dark room.

xxxxx

"Where're you takin' me?" Jayne didn't have much problem with close spaces. Kickin' around in the Black in tubs o' all shapes an' sizes, at his size he experienced more close spaces than most. He was followin' the girl through the shafts that made up Serenity's bowels, keepin' up with her by her scent, the light sounds of her movement, and only the occasional glimpse of her skirt as she changed direction. He thought of a scrap of bedtime story some whore had told him when he's just little, about following a rabbit dressed like people and fallin' down a hole forever.

"He thinks she is Mary Ann and sends her for his gloves." River's head suddenly appeared at the top of the short ladder. "But she is Alice. The significance of this is unclear."

Jayne wasn't thinking about any Mary Ann. "Who?"

"The rabbit."

"Oh."

"His thoughts are fallacious."

"The rabbit's?"

"No, Jayne's. He thinks the girl may be taking him to the place she plans to hide his body, and that making him get there under his own steam is clever." She frowned. "She has given no indications of malicious or homicidal intent."

"Today." He reached the top of the ladder, but she didn't back up so she was in his face. "Yet."

"Truce has been implied."

Jayne understood that this was a question. He also understood that what he'd said was hurtful an' he was a puppy-kicking _hun dan._ It wasn't the tight space that was making him feel trapped and uncomfortable. "Well, yeah, I guess."

"He thinks she would not honor it. Trust is not forthcoming." Her eyes were huge, and her lower lip looked none too steady, which made him feel twitchy.

"Bein' too forthcomin' with trust's what gets a body in trouble. We both trusted the wrong people before." _Don't trust me_ , he wanted to tell her. But that's not what he wanted to tell her.

She scooted back from the top of the shaft, putting her hands to her head. "Jayne's thoughts are not linear today. Serpents coil in ambivalence. Thoughts eating their own tails."

Jayne climbed out. He could almost stand to his full height. The panels all around the small space were covered with lights, some of them blinking, making the dim room strange and not at all soothing to his senses. There was a large, metal drum against the wall, humming mechanically with a sound like somethin' spinnin' slowly inside it. He sat down on the floor, leaning his back against the vibrations, letting the sound beat against his senses until his mind cleared of all those shifting thoughts.

River sighed. "Better. Snakes tamed."

"If you're gonna keep snoopin' around in people's heads, you oughta listen better. Just because I got a thought in my head, don't mean I mean it. Sometimes I'm just grousin'."

"'Eavesdroppers seldom hear anything good of themselves.'"

"Reckon that's so. Can't you tell the difference between what's real feelin' and what's just talk?"

"No. The others are worse. Jayne is usually the least conflicted. Jayne likes to keep things simple."

"Jayne really does," he agreed. He kept doin' that. The more time he spent with the girl, the more he slipped into talkin' like her. Had to quit that. He stretched one leg out and examined his boot while he waited for her to tell him where they were and why.

"That's the air recycler." She pointed to the drum behind him. "This is where most of Serenity's life support components are housed."

He looked around again, unsettled. He didn't like to think about the life support. The mechanisms he couldn't control that let him keep breathin', kept the pressure so's his eyes didn't boil in his head and such. "I thought that stuff's in the engine room with Kaylee.

"Some of it. What powers it. Most of it's here. Lots of places to hide on Serenity, but not too many big enough for Jayne. He thinks about lack of privacy. 'Gonna get messy.'"

He felt a spike of anxiety and focused on the air recycler until it receded. She knew he had more to tell. She was askin' for the next piece. No putting this off any longer. "I told you about the conditioning, remember?"

"Sleep deprivation, withholding sustenance, reeducation vids..."

"They do that stuff to you?"

"She remembers employment in activities that enhanced self-worth. So many classes. A flood of learning. Finally challenged. And dancing." There was a dreamy smile that slid away, a look of betrayal that punched Jayne in the gut. "She was finally in the right place. Fly in the spider's parlor. Sticky webs held her in the chair. Needles and drilling things. Images fired directly on the brain."

"River!" he snapped at her rising voice. Then he shook his head. He shouldn'a stopped her; that was the whole point o' the exercise, wasn't it?

"She remembers in flashes. Memory is fragmented."

"Pieces are missing."

She nodded.

"I got an idea part of your problem is how your brother took you away before they was finished puttin' you back together. Like how I left before they's done with me. They..." He struggled to find words for things he didn't rightly understand himself. "This ain't exactly what I'm good at, you know."

She got up and walked over to him, kneeling down between his legs before he had a chance to get out of the way. He tried to back up against the metal, but there was nowhere to go. She reached up and put her cold hand against his cheek. It shouldn't have calmed him, but the need to escape bled out as her scent surrounded him. "Show me," she said softly, tilting her head to the side, her dark eyes widening, unfocusing. It should have been creepifyin' but he found himself thinkin' on the rabbit hole again before he slid into the past.

River walked into Jayne. His memories, his emotions, his thoughts swirled around her. His consciousness was there, anxiety spiking as he tried to rein in, hold back, to avoid revealing more of himself than she needed to know. There was an attempt at explanation. Non-verbal. He had no words for what he understood about his past.

"They attempt to scoop away who you are. They cram knowledge and intention into the empty spaces," she translated. "They try to cover it up, but the intention beats at its cage. Memories have buoyancy. Must be allowed to surface. Physics is insistent on this point."

" _Dong ma?_ " His voice was hoarse. His eyes were so blue. Too wide and intense. His body surrounding hers was on the point of shaking with his desire to break the connection with her.

"What's implanted is malignant. What presents as insanity is a symptom of the diseased parts. Have to dig in and find what they hid." She closed her eyes and pulled her hand back, tucking both arms into herself. She knew he wanted her to get up and move back to her place across from him in the small space, but she pretended she didn't know it.

"Keep what works. Let go of what don't. What's just there so's they can keep control."

"Left Michael behind. Let him die. Filled up the empty spaces with Jayne."

"Weren't nobody cared if Michael came back, includin' me."

"Michael was weak. An easy target. Jayne is strong. Feared."

Jayne shrugged. "Y'ain't gotta go that way."

"Have to sort out what's River and what's _the subject_."

"Yeah. Gotta let yourself remember, though. Can't be lettin' a fit o' crazy turn ya 'way from it every time. Can't be lettin' your brother shoot ya full of drugs so's ya can't feel it."

"It hurts." She'd pulled that out of his memories.

"Yeah. Don't know why. An' I don't know..." He lifted his hand and dropped it again, along with his thought.

She opened the door to catch what he was going to say, tucked a lock of hair behind her ear as he'd thought to do. "You don't know if it will be the same for me as it was for you. New generation, no way to tell what was done. No cutting in his past. No guarantee of success."

She nodded and shifted to sit on the floor between his legs, fully aware that he wanted her to move away. With the life support systems all around them, however, this was the most logical place her to be.

And she was afraid. She had felt some of the memories swirling around inside Jayne. The boy, fighting to break the program, a contest of will to establish reality, a battle that beat and tore inside his head. She didn't want to face that.

But she couldn't keep facing this half-life either. Crazy and not crazy. River and not River. Simon's burning hope that was shifting by degrees, from fierce determination to grim habit with each time she disappointed.

Had to be attempted. Had to be fixed. Had to start now.

She saw herself on a stretch of barren waste, grit beneath her bare feet, blowing cold over her toes. The ground before her crumbled, and she refused to back away as it sank into itself, swallowed by darkness until she was staring into a pit. The dull thud of a drum echoed, a pulse of warning.

River sat down at the edge, feeling the fragility of the ground beneath her. She knew the delicate crust that supported her weight was her mind's construct of reality. It was not supported. The pit breathed, coldness snaking up her legs, wrapping them in stinging tendrils of ice. _From beneath you it devours._

She turned over, her bare toes scraping the sides, searching for someplace to put her weight as she began her descent.

And then she was falling.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Going Under (Evanescence) is my River theme song right now. Behind Blue Eyes (Limp Bizkit) is Jayne.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but this laptop, the DVDs, and a Pop Vinyl Jayne.

xxxxx

River was falling. Falling so long that the panic receded. Falling forever.

 _This is what drowning feels like._

The cold breath of forever sliding against her, through her hair, causing her thin dress to swirl around her body. That steady beating thrum of something alive and waiting for her.

A thin, grey light in the distance. With a dancer's agility, she angled her body, picking up speed as the light and ledge rushed up to meet her feet. As soon as she felt that fragile grit beneath her soles, she felt the give and crumble and rushed forward.

 _"River, where have you been? We've been waiting," her mother scolded. Regen Tam was polished, perfect and regal, poised on the edge of her chair with her back perfectly straight._

Companion _, her mind suggested, extrapolating from the similarities._

 _"Simon was here on time," her father said, smiling and gently mocking her, happy to play his children against each other. The benefits of competition. Gabriel Tam was a competitive man. He smiled at Simon, whose achievements always gave him an edge over other fathers._

 _Simon turned his head and grinned at her. A grin that added an invisible point in a game where they didn't keep score. She sneered at him, turning her head so her mother couldn't see the unattractive twist of her mouth and nose._

 _Pages were spread out on the table, the Academy's logo on all of them. Images shifted on the pages, looking nearly identical to the ones from all the other schools that courted her. But this one was so very different. This was the one._

 _"River, take your seat, darling," her mother said, with that graceful, close-fingered gesture that made other people feel honored to be asked._

 _"I know this is what you want," her father said, "but there are still things to talk about."_

 _They were concerned that a boarding school wasn't the right choice. To them, more time at the school meant more time for her to get in trouble there. Raised the probability of being asked to leave another school. An embarrassment they didn't want repeated. But it wouldn't happen. This was the one place that wouldn't bore her, and her starved brain yearned for it._

 _"We think it's the best place for you," her mother told her._

 _"That's not what you were expecting." Her father chuckled at her surprise. "Well why not? Just look at this program!" He swept his hand across the sheets, then picked one up, a small booklet. "The Hand to Hand Combat track," he read, then opened to the first page. River could see the cover, shifting images, one captures flowing into another, showing students competing in various forms of martial arts. "Students will begin with a core set of movements compiled from a long history of martial arts disciplines dating back to ancient Earth times. This will ensure a strong foundation going forward to explore an exciting and deadly range of fighting styles throughout history, covering many worlds and cultures. Students who excel in this area of study will go on to advanced level courses where they will have regular opportunities to face off in no-holds-barred one-on-one cage matches. I think I read something in here earlier about fights to the death!"_

 _"Shiny!" Simon exclaimed, looking excited._

 _"Simon, your language," Mother remonstrated. "Just think, River darling, with your natural gifts and background in dance, you're certain to secure a position of dominance."_

 _Pain ripped into River's head, throbbing with the beat of a drum. "You want me to kill my classmates to succeed?"_

 _"Of course, little one," Father crooned. "Competition is good for the soul."_

 _"This weapons track looks_ gao guhn! _" Simon told her, his eyes gleaming as he leafed through another booklet, pouring over captures of deadly weapons which gleamed just as sharply. "You'll get to learn all kinds of firearms, knives, even swords. So many cool ways to kill people."_

 _"But you want to be a doctor. To heal people."_

 _"Yes, well that's me. You're a killer. It's what you are. We've always known it."_

 _"It's true, darling." Mother laid a hand on her arm. "You know it, too."_

 _"We couldn't be more proud of you," Father said, his eyes soft._

 _The pain in River's skull turned to a hot stream of acid, pulsing with that beating sound that never stopped, oozing tracks through her brain matter, burning down behind her eyes, behind the mask that was her face. "Why? Why do you want me to do this?"_

 _Her father looked at her sternly, that look that said,_ You're being ridiculous, River. _"To make a better world, of course."_

 _Her mother's hand stroked down her hair. "We want you to use your extraordinary gifts to make the world-every world-_ better _. Isn't that what you want?"_

No! _River's mind screamed. It's not what I want. She turned to Simon. Her brother was always right, her voice of reason. Always on her side. "Simon?"_

 _"Someone has to tell those people how to live, mei-mei, and if they don't listen, there has to be someone to make them. That someone is you."_

xxxxx

"Gorrammit, girl, hold still!" Jayne growled, trying to keep the little demon clamped firmly against him, so's she wouldn't damage herself or make the ship boil all their eyeballs. At the same time, he was tryin' to keep her screams behind his hand, and keep her claws from tearing his chest open. He already had both legs and both arms wrapped around her, but he was runnin' out o' limbs an' patience. "River! Come back. Come back now."

Her body bowed, backing arching in a damned unnatural fashion over his knee, and her eyes flew open. Then they rolled back in her head as she started to convulse.

Jayne ripped out a string of Chinese curses along with the leather sheath on his belt, which he shoved between her teeth. He took the opportunity to clamp down on all her limbs, figurin' there was nothin' else to do but let her ride it out.

He'd forgotten this part. A long time ago-had she even been born then? He'd remembered it was bad, just not...this bad. He knew he had a tendency to do that, to push the worst out of his head and forget it. Maybe he should have said, given her more information before she decided to do this.

But then, he'd had to share the same ship with her these last months. Every time he was in a room with her that gorram crazy talk remindin' him of being all new again. All raw and used, always second-guessin' what was real. Turnin' them in wasn't an option, tryin' to make them leave hadn't worked. He was gettin' to a point where he was just worn thin an' somethin' had to change.

She went limp in his arms, the knife in its sheath falling and bouncing on the metal floor with a hollow bang. He picked it up quickly and shoved it in his pocket. _Shouldn't oughta've given her the knife, too, genius_.

He eased her back to a sitting position, aware that she was conscious, but barely. She slumped against his chest. Tears ran down her face, but she wasn't crying. Now he remembered that, too. All that pain an' bein' too weak to cry. Or maybe just knowin' it didn't do no good.

He didn't know what to do next, didn't remember. And she wasn't some Rim-bred street rat, she was a Core girl, all fancified and delicate. If he let somethin' go wrong with her, the Doc was never gonna let him hear the end of it. An' Mal...

"Come on, little girl, let's get you to your brother."

"Simon will be sad," she breathed, her head rolling on his shoulder as he stepped onto the ladder, like she didn't have strength to hold it up.

"He'll get over it."

"No drugs."

That hit him somehow. He knew it from the way he squeezed her, as he started down, even though his hold on her was solid enough. "Won't let it happen."

xxxxx

 _gao guhn-_ awesome(ly clever)


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: I hope you don't actually need to be told how much I appreciate every response to this story. The last chapter I wrote (which you haven't yet seen), took me four days to get through. I lost most of my buffer in terms of banked chapters so I can post daily, as well as a chunk of personal momentum. Definitely in that space where I feel like what gets on the page is not a good as it was in my head. I know not every chapter seems worth talking about, but all of you who have taken the time to say something really help me get going again.

xxxxx

Jayne breathed easier once he was out of the shafts an' could scoop River up in both arms. Her head rolled limply against his chest. She was pale, but he couldn't decide if she was any paler than usual. He shrugged.

He was sure glad not to pass anybody, especially anybody called captain, on his short trip to the infirmary. He could see the doc through the glass, cleanin' like he always seemed to be doin'. Man had some kinda complex maybe.

"Doc," he called out, "had us an...incident," he finished, when the man turned.

Simon lunged for the doorway. "Bring her in here," he snapped. "What happened?"

Jayne ignored the smaller man, moving past to the passenger dorm.

"Jayne!"

"She don't like it in there," he called back, makin' sure his voice conveyed that the doc was stupid not to know it. He laid the girl on the bed, pulled the hair off her face, and had just stepped back when her brother barreled in.

"What happened?" he demanded, taking her pulse.

Jayne shrugged, even though Simon had his back to him. "Some kinda fit. Seemed like normal crazy, you know, with the babblin' don't make no sense, but then more...seizure like."

"She went into convulsions?"

"Well let me consult my vast medical trainin' on that. An' I'm s'posed to remind you. No drugs."

Simon turned to glare at him, then shot out a bunch of questions Jayne tried to answer as honestly as he could. An' also tried not to purposely rile the man anymore, which he thought was real decent of him.

"All right, fine. Thank you for bringing her to me. I need to examine her now," the doc told him, clearly dismissing the help.

Jayne made to leave, but hovered outside the door. Had to make sure the doc didn't get all needle happy. Besides that, this was gonna happen again, so he should pay attention to what comes after. Didn't seem like much. Checkin' vitals and hair strokin'. When Doc'd stuffed all his gadgets in his little bag an' shut it, Jayne figured it was safe to get out of there. He sped down the hall to the lounge, jumped over the low table, and dropped onto the couch. He'd barely cracked his magazine when he heard boots on the stairs.

Kaylee shot him a smile and a little wave, and he nodded back at her. She poked her head in the infirmary.

"Try River's room."

She blushed. "Um, thanks."

From where he was sitting, he could see the doc hover outside River's door before taking Kaylee by the arm and coming back toward the infirmary. Kaylee was all kindsa concerned while the doc explained what was goin' on in low voice.

"Aw, I'm sorry, Simon," she told him when he ducked into the infirmary to put his bag away. She followed him in and rubbed at his arm.

He took a step back and tripped over the rolling tray, wincing when it rattled.

 _Smooth._

"Did you, uh, want me for something?"

 _Hell yeah she wants you for somethin'._ If nothing else, the doc provided comic relief out in the Black.

Kaylee shook her head. "I was gonna ask you to help me with my nav- well, I got this part I gotta regulate. Takes two people to do it, and I figured you probly had the best hands, you bein' a surgeon an' all."

 _See, Doc? Now that's smooth._ Jayne was amused enough he wasn't gonna throw in a crude remark about parts o' Kaylee wanted regulatin'.

"Sorry. I really should stay here, in case she wakes up."

"Well yeah, of course. Sure you do."

An' now this was the part where the awkward was gonna get less funny and just damn uncomfortable.

"That mean I'm off the hook?" Jayne cut into it.

Simon leaned out the door to look at Jayne, like he'd never even noticed he was there. "What?"

"Didn't know her takin' a nap meant I was off the job. Don't know what I'm hangin' around here for." He made to get up, then settled back. "Course if you wanna help Kaylee, I s'pose I can hang around."

"Well, I...why?"

Jayne scowled, menacin'-like. "What'dya mean, why? Woman needs your fancy, Core-i-fied little fingers to make sure the ship don't explode or whatever. I got my priorities, and not gettin' blowed up is one of 'em."

"Well, then, I guess..." He looked down the hall. "You'll listen for her? You won't fall asleep or wander off or anything?"

"Said so, didn't I? Git, before you damage my calm."

Kaylee tugged Simon's sleeve. "Thank you, Jayne." She sent him her shiniest beaming smile.

"Whatever," he grunted, stickin' his face in his magazine and pretendin' he didn't see it. Maybe he should be more helpful 'bout things between Kaylee an' the doc. Maybe Doc'd be less twitchy if he got him some trim regular. Least the doc was more respectable 'n what she she'd picked up before.

Kaylee scampered up the steps with the doc in tow, an' Jayne moved silently down to River's room. Her scent grabbed him right off. He tried openin' his senses to find another focus, but there were faint traces of bitter drugs and old sick. Wasn't anythin' anyone but him could pick up. He gave up and let the River smell drown it out as he settled on the floor by her bed, stretching his legs away from him an' crackin' his magazine.

xxxxx

"She has returned from the pit." She tried to lift her head, but it was very heavy. She rolled to her side.

Jayne shifted to lean up against her nightstand. She looked down at him. His back had been turned to her. That seemed strange.

 _Bodyguard of the girl, not the crew._ Was that right?

"Who returned?"

She rolled her eyes. Even her eyes felt heavy and stiff in their sockets. " _I_ did."

"That one o' them...metaphors?"

"Uncertain." Her eyes wanted to close again, so she let them, sinking down into the heaviness. "He had a sister. An older sister who had boys in her room. 'Keep the door open.' They talked, he spied, alert for anything that needed to be interrupted. Jenna. Daughter of the Cobb mother."

"Gettin' tired o' tellin' you to stay outta my head." He grumbled, but the words were diluted. A vague sense of loss for the sibling. Resentment for the things that were stolen. Family. Childhood.

"Innocent bystander. Memory spills out at her. When she is in your head, you will know."

 _"Also, I can kill you with my brain."_ His memory of her taunt rolling out. Understanding what she was, making the threat real. Was the shot of fear in the memory or in the now?

"Gonna tell me what you saw?" he asked. Easy. Interest, concern. Expectation contained, denied. Wouldn't pressure or demand.

She tried find the scene again. She knew the feelings, but the context was fading, like a bad dream. She remembered the pit, the coldness, the drum. It was still beating, beyond her hearing, but still _there._ Beating in time with the pulse in his temple.

"Don't gotta. Sleep some more 'f ya want." Not disinterest. Respect of privacy. Reminder of distance.

"There was a family meeting about where she would go to school. All family were present at the table, glossy captures and catalogs. True past event. True but...altered. Academy training on display for all to see." She told him about the courses haltingly, struggling for words to make the pictures real for him, about the unexpected reactions of her family.

Jayne let her struggle. He didn't try to find words for her. Didn't ask questions that led down confusing pathways to nowhere. He listened. He waited. When she was finished, he said, "So they took a real memory and put in another version of it. Why ya think they'd do that?"

"A real memory because it has automatic validity for the subconscious," she said slowly, still thinking it through. "Wanted her to believe the family approved the training. Morality is a product of upbringing. Often shaped by established familial policies. If her subconscious believes the altered morality, the subject will function without questioning."

"Sounds likely."

Jayne didn't process the answer. He had already known it. Uneducated, but more intelligent than he wanted people to know. She bit her tongue, not letting the observation spill out loud.

"It was bad, huh?" His voice was cautious. Resolute, but guilty.

"Real and not real. Paradox. Incongruence caused...bad," she finally agreed. She was still exhausted, feeling like she'd pushed every muscle in her body to its limit and she had nothing left. "Is it always like that?"

"Changes. Depends on what it is, how you feel about it. Some might be easier. Some'll be harder." He shrugged. "No tellin' how many are in there, either. Wanna quit?"

"Illogical. Wouldn't serve the purpose."

Jayne smiled. He was looking at his boot, but approval swept out at her. A warm cloak being spread over her that both made her happy and eased her back into sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

Jayne woke suddenly. Like coming out of dream, only he couldn't remember even a hint of what it might have been. Maybe that was because he couldn't hardly think because his bunk reeked of girl.

It seemed like her scent was everywhere. Not just on his clothes or escaping the laundry hatch, but in the air, on the sheets, on his pillow. Been like that. Laundry must've reached some kind of critical mass and needed to get done, whether it was his usual day or not.

The good thing about havin' really good hearing was pickin' up on people talkin' about you. So's you could sneak up on 'em an' hear more. Jayne heard his name mentioned as soon as he came up the ladder. He eased down the hallway with his bag to get a little closer to where Mal and the doc were sittin' at the table, and Kaylee was gettin' breakfast ready around the corner.

"...too much time together."

"That was the idea, wasn't it? Figured you'd be happy for the break."

"I am, don't get me wrong. Brain injury was never my area, and I've got a lot to study. Knowing River's looked after has certainly made that easier, it's just..."

"What? She pickin' up unsightly personal habits?"

"No, that's not...well, in point of fact..."

"Only got another day an' a half 'fore we make landfall, Doc. Best spit it out."

"She's touching him."

" _Shuh muh?_ "

"Am I the only one who's noticed this? River touches Jayne. All the time. When she sits next to him or walks with him, which is most of the time, she's got her hand on his arm, or on his back."

"I can see how that would be all kinds o' unsightly to you, Doc, but your sister's had a good couple o' weeks here. Been more normal-like, an' it seems that makes her more touchy with everyone. Seen her hug Wash. Held my hand on the bridge yesterday. Didn't mean nothin'."

"That's you, Captain. But nobody touches Jayne who's not getting paid to do it."

"Simon, that's mean!" Kaylee gasped.

Doc kept goin', ignorin' her. "And he's just...letting her. He doesn't move away, doesn't shake her off, doesn't put any sort of respectful distance between them. He just lets her hang all over him."

"She is not _hanging_ all over him," Kaylee argued.

"He's cute when he gets all big brothery, ain't he?"

"Captain, please take this seriously."

"Maybe she's getting a little crush on him," Kaylee said. "I think that's real sweet."

"Sweet!?" both men snapped with such a distaste that Jayne cringed outside the doorway.

"Don't mean Jayne's doin' nothin' wrong," Kaylee pointed out.

"He better not be." Mal's voice was gettin' hard. "Maybe you're right. Maybe we oughta try t' separate those two a bit. How's she doin'? With the bein' off the drugs an' all?"

"Good, I think. As you said, these last couple weeks have been good. Better than expected."

"What about danger to my crew?"

"You know I can't make guarantees about that, Captain. But given my observations over the last couple weeks, I'd say the risks are minimal."

"I agree she seems better. Lil' Kaylee, you were shook up over what happened at Niska's, an' that ain't nothin' to be ashamed over. How do you feel now, about spending alone time with the girl?"

"Oh we're shiny now, Captain. Jayne's asked me to watch her a couple times and she's been real good."

"All right, let's give Jayne some time off, starting now. Was plannin' on givin' him time on planet after the deal, so we'll just start it now."

"Thank you, Captain," Simon started in kissing Mal's ass. Jayne soft-footed back to his room, slammed the hatch, and made plenty of noise as he stalked to the laundry.

xxxxx

Jayne beat the crap out the heavy bag. It was good. He was gonna leave it up, and didn't care what Mal had to say about it. He'd gotten used to the preacher standing by the weight bench, makin' observations about the crew that were sometimes funny because they were true. He'd gotten used to the girl sittin' on the catwalk while he did his pull-ups, doing scarily accurate impressions o' all o' them. Now his grunts echoed through the empty hold.

He could have been upstairs, where they was playin' cards in the galley. But he was still sore at 'em, an' that made him wanna punch the bag.

Somethin' pricked his senses, cut through the sound of his workout. He stopped and held his breath.

Raised voices. Notes of panic. He ran for the stairs. He could smell the fear before he reached the top. Theirs, hers. But no strangers.

In the galley, River was faced off against the entire crew, a knife swinging toward anyone who came near her. The arm that didn't have the knife was bent against her head, and she was babbling about voices, many hands, and nonsense.

"River!" he snapped.

The girl turned, and Kaylee screamed as River went for him.

xxxxx

Mal reached for his pistol. When he found it wasn't there, there was a long moment when he knew he'd failed his crew and he'd have to find himself another gunhand.

And then he went to the crazy place. Because that was the only explanation for what he thought he saw when the girl threw herself at his mercenary and wrapped her skinny arms around his waist. Jayne reached out to grab her. Not to fend her off, but to pull her in. He spun, putting his back between her and everyone else in the room.

The big man kept one arm around her shoulders while he reached behind his back to pry the knife from her fingers. He held it out behind him, and Zoe snatched it away.

"What the gorram ruttin' hell is goin' on up here?" he demanded.

Everyone started talking at once again. Danger neutralized, the doc rushed forward to retrieve his sister. "River-"

Jayne shifted again, staying between them. The new position let Mal see how the girl was shaking, clawing at Jayne's shirt. "Just step back," he barked. "All o' you step back and shut up. Don't care how it started, it's done. Show's over."

"Jayne," Doc said. "Give her to me."

"Take yourself out o' here and come back when you calm the hell down. That goes for all o' ya. Git."

Mal's temper flared. "Don't much care for getting told to git on m'own boat."

"No, Captain, he's right," Doc said. "We're hurting her. Our emotions..."

"Wait, _Jayne's_ right?" Wash said.

"Not now, dear," Zoe warned.

Kaylee tugged his arm. "Come on, Captain. Let's give River some space. Jayne'll look after her."

xxxxx

River focused on his heartbeat, pounding hard against her ear. Possessiveness flared, a shield that repelled the worst of the voices and emotions that attacked her. Jayne's need to protect enveloped her, not restraining but wrapping her body like armor that kept her in one piece until the voices retreated. _Protecting the girl from the crew, not the crew from the girl._

Jayne was silent and still, his mind as quiet as he could make it, projecting reassurance and calm over hints of anger directed at the crew. He cradled her head in his big hand, and his thumb rubbed against the line of scar where they'd cut. She followed the rhythm of his the caress and the beat of his heart until she found her own calm again. She wrapped her arms around his waist again and sighed.

 _"Nobody touches Jayne who's not getting paid to do it."_ The thought made him tense and withdraw.

She dug her fingers into the belt loops at his sides when he would have broken away. "Who said that?"

He looked around. "What?"

"Simon?"

Realization dawned across his face. "Quit that."

She tilted her head and opened to the memory, the incident with the knife slipping away as her temper rose. "Had no right."

"Like you don't have a right to be pickin' things outta my head what I didn't choose t' share," he snapped. Frustration, guilt. Remorse. "Look, I'm sorry. You can see his point."

"No."

"Don't suppose I'd want my sister spendin' so much time with a mean old _hun dan_ like me, either."

"Then both Jayne _and_ Simon are stupid. And the captain." She opened to the ship. "Oh, they're all stupid. So sure the girl was going to hurt them. Mass panic. Jayne takes care of the girl and their anxieties shift to a new target. They send Kaylee as chaperone."

xxxxx

"Hope I'm not interruptin'."

Jayne turned to the doorway where Kaylee was standing, pulling River's hands away from him.

"No." River went into full brat mode. "Caveman was going to hit the girl over the head and drag her back to his bunk by her hair, but your presence has averted the danger."

"Hey!" Jayne's anxiety spiked. The grown-ups were probly discussing whether to space him right now.

"Aw, sweetie," Kaylee crooned, puttin' an arm around River's shoulders. "Nobody thinks that."

River shrugged her off. "The words get confused. She is dismissed. One person listens for the meaning, waits for the words to make a thought. One person listens to every ugly memory. Doesn't turn away, doesn't try to sweep it under the rug, doesn't try to ignore that it was real."

Her words punched him in the chest, and her tears, when the started to slip, threatened to wreck him, but he buttoned down hard and maintained his calm, lettin' her have her say.

"She's better. Still broken, but improved. Even Simon sees this. Not grateful, but suspicious and insulting."

"Honey," Kaylee reached out for her again, but River ducked away. "Big brothers are just like that."

"If Jayne is a problem, they will send him away."

"No. No they won't. Jayne's part of the crew."

River looked up at him. Not her wide-eyed Reader look, but just...somethin'. Whiskey eyes all teary like, makin' his gut churn. She spun on her heel, ran for the galley, and dove behind the counter. He started to follow, but Kaylee pushed him back.

"This? Is totally normal," Kaylee told him. "Not a lot of privacy on a ship. Less when y'always gotta have someone watchin' over ya all the time. Let 'er have it."

Jayne gritted his teeth and sat down on the table. Made sense, he s'posed. Didn't feel right, but Kaylee should know 'bout this woman stuff. Her hand settled on his shoulder, and he fought the surprise, fought his instinct to ease away from the contact. Her thumb moved over his shoulder and he knew she felt the tension there. He'd have to work on that in case the rest of the crew thought about tryin' out this experiment.

He was just used to the girl. When they were sortin' out the stuff in her head, he had to touch her, to keep her safe. He let her touch him because she needed to. It seemed to help. Didn't mean he was full o' lecherous intention.

Didn't mean he was innocent o' lecherous thoughts, either, but that was his business. He snapped off the thought. He never let that _gosa_ into his head where she was likely to pick it up.

"She's right about one thing," Kaylee told him in a low voice. "You're doin' good. I didn't realize how much. They _should_ be thankin' you, Simon _an'_ the cap'n."

"Don't need a pat on the head nor a round o' applause, neither." He smiled at her. "But if they start throwin' money, reckon I'll catch it."

She laughed an' bumped his shoulder with hers. "You know what? I'm gonna go tell 'em."

"Don't. Don't stir things up any more. Kaylee!" But she had bounced out of the room. He wanted to stop her, but he couldn't leave River alone when she was all unstable. Hiding behind counters crying counted as unstable in his book.

She picked that moment to come back to him. He pulled the handkerchief out of his pocket, and started to wipe her face. Carryin' one had become a habit, even today, knowing he'd been dismissed.

"Shouldn't oughta be carryin' on 'bout stuff hasn't even happened yet." _Shouldn't oughta let her stand so close, between your legs like that. If someone walks in..._ Yesterday it would have just been him taking care of her. Today he had to worry about how it looked. It pissed him off.

"Has. It's changed." She stepped in and wrapped her arms around his neck before he could stop her. "Dismissed the bodyguard. She was not consulted."

His throat tightened. "Ain't goin' nowhere." _Yet._ It slipped in before he could stop it.

"Did he...?" Did _you..._ want to be dismissed?" Her voice sounded as tiny and breakable as the girl around his neck.

"I didn't ask for it," he said, careful as he could, gently pryin' her arms away. Her hair was in his face, and the smell o' her made his voice rougher than he'd meant it to be. This conversation never shoulda happened.

He let his eyes close for a moment, to focus on the feel o' her cheek slidin' against his as she pulled away. So he was taken by surprise when her lips touched his.

Soft, and warm, and so damned _sweet_ , and over before he could respond.

He opened his eyes, finding her already out of his reach.

"I'll be in my bunk," she called back, over her shoulder as she walked away.

xxxxx

 _shuh muh?-_ what?

 _hun dan-_ bastard

 _gosa-_ slang: excrement


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: Lack of ownership, blah blah.

A/N: The part of OC Grover Cleveland will be played by Seth Green. Because adorbsable and why not?

Sorry about yesterday. I'm short on material and wanted to do some catch-up. Don't want to accidentally cliffhanger you at some point, and the previous chapter wasn't a bad rest point.

So, I gotta ask a favor. I'm really in the mood for a fic about a Mal and Jayne friendship. Mutual respect, loyalty, manly affection. But not slash, because Rayne is my OTP and other Jayne pairings make me unhappy. So I'm afraid to do much looking-some things cannot be unseen. I just want a good bromance. Any recommendations?

xxxxx

"Let's get this done." Mal clapped a hand on his shoulder and Jayne gritted his teeth.

There'd been all manner o' shoulder clappin', back pattin', an' arm punchin' all mornin'. And the arm punch, comin' from Zoe, that had gorram _hurt._ Every one o' them was out to prove that him lettin' River touch him was an exception he oughta be strung up for. An' the minx in question watchin' from corners, lookin' like she was gonna bust int'a fit o' giggles any minute.

He just wasn't gonna think about her. Had a job.

This was the third run they'd made for Grover Cleveland in the last couple months. The man didn't seem to deal in anythin' in particular. He babbled a lot about supply an' demand, and somethin' about margins. Whatever. Jayne didn't care about the particulars, long they got paid. And they was gettin' paid because Cleveland could make a lot better profit if his goods were delivered unregistered and untaxed.

"Hey there, Cleveland, how's things?" Mal asked the little red-headed man who was glued to his cortex screen.

"Captain Reynolds, lots going on. Always. Do you know the price of olives on Persephone today?"

"Can't say as I do."

"Gotta find a source..." he muttered.

Jayne cleared his throat. He didn't have a problem with Cleveland, but the man set up his office space in the corner of his warehouse. The room was full of so many competing scents, Jayne could hardly tell one thing from another, and what was there from what had _been_ there. Bothered him some. 'Sides that, Cleveland didn't keep guards for that stuff. Just had a bunch o' sensors an' alarms. When Mal asked about it, Cleveland said the place would go into lockdown if the perimeter got breached. That was fine if Cleveland wanted to get locked up with all this _gosa,_ but Jayne never was a fan o' lockdowns.

Cleveland finally looked up from his screen. "Oh, I see you've brought your associates."

"Just keepin' your property safe," Mal said easily. "That's what you pay me for."

"Indeed." Cleveland took the bag of credits and dropped it on a scale.

Somethin' raised up the hairs on the back of Jayne's neck. He backed toward one of the roll up doors that opened onto other areas of warehouse, an' tried to separate out the various sounds, figure out what had shifted. Zoe caught his eye, her look questioning, but he just gave her a shrug. She started movin' toward Cleveland's desk and the monitors that showed his security cams.

"Looks right, as usual," Cleveland was sayin'. "You provide a valuable service, Captain. I've got something else in the works, but I'm still ironing out some details. Might take a day or two, but if you're going to be in town, I'd like you to handle it for me."

"I think we could see our way toward st-"

"Sir!" Zoe snapped. "Cams just went down."

"That's not possible," Cleveland said, movin' to the screens, punchin' at buttons.

Seemed people was always sayin' that right 'fore things went south. The 'Verse was way too full o' positive thinkin'.

"The doors should have come down. Have to do it manually."

"Hang on a second, there," Mal started.

Jayne interrupted. "Mal, let's just get on outta here."

"We don't know what's out there," Zoe pointed out.

Then the doors started comin' down and it was gettin' to be too late. He could already hear some of them closing in other parts of the complex. Jayne's heart rate shot up. He didn't know a gorram thing about Cleveland's setup, whether it was done right, whether he had supplies laid in or if the ventilation system was tamper proof.

"Mal!" Jayne barked, as three of the five doors in the room, the three closest, sealed shut.

"Yeah, we're goin'. Come with us, Cleveland. This _luh suh_ ain't worth dyin' over."

"But-"

"Now!"

Jayne was already makin' his way through the cramped aisles to the two far doors. He could hear voices outside, too many to count exactly. Something small arced through the door, landing in his path. He dove away and peeked back over tarp-covered goods. His gut loosened a little when he saw it wasn't a grenade, but gas was already spewing from the spinning container. He sniffed as several more fell around him.

"Just smoke," he called out, as the room erupted in gunfire and chaos.

xxxxx

When the smoke cleared, a dozen backbirth _hun dans_ were bleedin' all over the warehouse.

Jayne had finished his circuit, securin' the area, and followed the sound of Cleveland's curses. Mal was kneelin' over the gut shot trader, tryin' to get the bleedin' stopped.

"Zoe, take Jayne and the mule back to Serenity. Bring the doc."

"Sir," Zoe started.

But Mal already knew what she was gonna say. That she wasn't gonna wanna leave him on his own. And what she wasn't gonna say, that it was on accounta him being a magnet for bullets himself, most o' the time. "Don't argue. I need to you bring back the doc, and I need Jayne to stay with the girl." He looked to Jayne. "Know I promised you rec time, but-"

"Whatever," he drawled. "I know my job."

"That's it?"

"What, you want me to argue? I'll complain later when the guy who's been givin' us good work ain't bleedin' t' death, how 'bout that?"

"That'll work, I reckon."

Jayne shook his head. "Ten percent o' nothin' is nothin', Mal," he reminded, and headed out ahead of Zoe.

xxxxx

Jayne knew River was watchin' him from the catwalk. He wasn't thinkin' on what it felt like when her lips brushed his. He had been determinedly not thinkin' on that all day. No point. Little bit was just messin' with his head. Hilarious. He tightened down the straps to secure the container o' her brother's supplies when the doc hoisted himself into the Mule. Before he sat down, he turned back and clamped a hand on Jayne's shoulder.

"Appreciate you watching my sister for me while I'm gone."

Jayne wasn't surprised, but enough was enough already. He flicked the bit o' lily-white away like a bug an' grunted. "I can do my job. Stop your jawin' an' go do yours." He raised his voice. "There's a man bleedin' his guts out, if you're 'bout done?"

Zoe turned from kissin' on Wash. "Jealousy's ugly, Jayne."

"'Sain't jealousy," Jayne told her as she climbed into her seat. "Anticipation. Seein' as how my plans is wrecked, I intend to have my way with your wife, soon 's you leave."

"Did Jayne just make a joke?" Wash asked.

"You'd better hope so, baby," Zoe told him, chuckling as she fired up the Mule.

"Not that I'm not flattered," Wash said, once the Mule was out of sight, "but I had plans to accompany Kaylee to the junkyard. Is that...going to work for you?" His eyes pointed up at the catwalk.

"'S fine. Ain't no reason everybody's plans gotta get changed."

Wash patted Jayne on the back. While Jayne silently counted to ten, Wash called up to where Kaylee had stopped on the catwalk with River, "Miss Frye, quality scavenging awaits!"

xxxxx

River watched Jayne shrug out of his jacket. He tossed it on top of a pile of crates, and then started a short series of movements to stretch his upper body while he took in the scenery. She wondered if viewing the spectacle upside down would make it any less captivating.

It didn't.

But she was still hanging upside down, with her knees wrapped over the railing when Jayne turned around and got all spiky.

"What'n the ruttin' hell you doin'?" he snapped, striding forward, "Crazy, moonbrained girl, get down from there!"

"Very well." She pulled up from the waist until she could grasp the rail, prepared for the backflip dismount she could see in her mind.

There had been a 99.2% probability, based on speed and trajectory, that she would have stuck the landing, had she not been grabbed while still in the air. Jayne's anger and frustration buffeted her as he let her know exactly what he thought of her acrobatics, but woven through was a velvet ribbon of concern that was soft and warm. She wouldn't say anything about it, though. Jayne ain't soft.

"And what're you smilin' about?" he paced away and turned back to her, shaking a finger. "Been smilin' way too much today, don't think I ain't noticed. I got bruises, all the back pattin' and suchlike I been gettin', and it's all just a big ruttin' joke to you, ain't it?"

"Poor Jayne. Affection crosses personal boundaries."

"Affection my ass. You know exactly what they're doin'. 'S all a gorram test. An' if I flunk it, Mal's gonna leave me stranded on this damned moon. That's if I'm lucky and he don't decide to take me outta atmo so's he can space me."

"Wouldn't let that happen."

"Oh yeah?" His voice was half sneer, half amused.

"Bodyguard."

Jayne snorted out a laugh. "Always wanted me a bodyguard. Didn't picture no scrawny girl for the job, though."

She frowned and looked down at herself.

"Don't get all girly an' offended. Ya gotta admit y'aint exactly intimidatin'." He crossed to the controls and closed the bay doors, then came back to the empty area near the catwalk. "Come on, little bit, show me what ya got. Come at me." He smiled, encouraging and challenging at once as he took up a defensive stance.

"He wants to fight?"

"We done this before, remember?"

She crossed her arms. "She has no wish to participate."

"Why not?"

Thoughts swirled through her head, some cold and dark, some with sharp edges. Difficult to grasp. Difficult to make into words.

He sauntered over the to weight bench. "Come here." He sat down and made room for her.

She kept the door firmly closed between them. Too much of her own darkness to chance reading his.

"You're scared."

She nodded.

"Not of me."

"His intention is to test her, not to injure."

"That's right. You took me on, that night with the shepherd. Gave us all a surprise. Me so much that I started to forget about killin' him. Kept me distracted so's Mal and the doc could sneak up on me."

"We were not allies then."

"Allies, huh?" Something pressed against the door in her mind. A remembered sensation. A butterfly brush against his lips. When she didn't answer, he went on, "My Ma told me that everyone gets stuff put in their heads they didn't ask for, stuff they don't want. Not just us, but everybody. It's the consequence of livin' with people."

"Different."

"Ain't denyin' that. Just tryin' to say that just because you didn't ask to know somethin', don't automatically make it wrong to know it."

"Bad," she said, as shadowed memories crept closer, threatened to be seen, "bad bad bad ba-"

"That's about enough o' that." His voice was a harsh demand, but not unkind as he pulled her hands from her hair. He held them in her lap, his grasp light. Not restraining, just reminding. "Find a focus."

Immediately, her mind latched onto his heartbeat. Could always sense, always feel when she searched, even when she couldn't hear. Let it bring her back.

"We talked about gettin' rid of stuff you don't want, keepin' what you do. But you gotta find it first, gotta face it. Things they taught you, weapons an' fightin', ain't much different from what's in your head, and you gotta find out what you know so you'll be one in control of it, _dong ma? S_ eems to me, you gonna be a fugie, gonna embrace a life a' crime, some o' them skills is gonna come in handy. For bodyguardin' me, like you was talkin' about, if nothin' else."

"Jayne is humorous today."

"Jayne got to shoot people and didn't end up shot himself, so- Either you gotta stop talkin' crazy or I gotta stop listenin'." He shook his head. "Anyways, thing is, opportunities like this don't come up often. Everyone off the ship, no pryin' eyes to yell at me for hittin' a girl."

"For _attemptinging_ to hit a girl," she corrected, getting up and walking back into the open space.

He grinned, getting up and shaking out his arms. "Is that so?"

She fell into a defensive stance. "Let's dance."

xxxxx

 _luh suh-_ garbage

 _hun dan-_ bastard

 _dong ma?-_ understand?


	14. Chapter 14

It woulda been beautiful if- Hell, it was beautiful, there just wasn't any way around that. The way she moved, the way she watched him, anticipated...

But the cheeky grin had slipped from her face, into concentration, an' then into a hard blankness that was creepifyin'. Jayne knew his faster heart rate wasn't just about the fact that it was takin' more out o' him to match the girl. He was startin' to get real concerned about lettin' this go on much longer, cuz it was startin' to get hard to make sure neither o' them got really hurt.

He sure was excited, though. Didn't know when he'd ever enjoyed fightin' this much. It was one o' those things he was real good at, one o' those things they'd stuffed in his head, drilled in his muscles, but he'd kept it and made it his. He loved a good tussle (of either variety), on accounta there not bein' a whole lot in the 'Verse took up enough o' his attention to block out that constant wariness. That sure, watchful dread that somethin' was comin' for him an' his. An' it wasn't often he got a fight wasn't just about breakin' bottles, tossin' bodies, an' slammin' heads together. Wasn't often he had an opponent with moves an' strategies.

He fell back as her bare foot whizzed past his face. Coulda damn near broken his neck if she'd hit her mark. Before she could bring her foot back to the ground, he dropped and rolled into her, knocking her to the floor. He tried for a hold, but she slipped away, and he backed off, not willing to press his luck.

They circled each other. She wasn't that pale, lost girl. There was a pink flush to her cheeks, and across her chest where the neck of her shirt dipped low. He shouldn't oughta notice that, or a bunch o' other things he was noticin' about her sleek figure an' long legs. He focused on her eyes, willin' her to give somethin' away, but there was nothin'. Not the liquid, whiskey, lost girl's eyes, but a cold, flat, killer's stare.

"River." He kept his voice clear and hard. Dominant. "Playtime's over. 'Bout time we cooled off."

She tilted her head to the side, and a creepifyin' smile tugged at her mouth. "Playtime's over."

She came at him, a series of blows too fast for him to think about. He had t' leave thought behind to meet her where she had gone to, in a place where they let the programmin' take over. Not a place they oughta be. Not a place she knew how to get in and our of on her own.

Her foot in the center of his chest had him flying backward. His body reacted, regaining control, landing in crouch, sliding across the bay floor for at least a foot or two before the friction of his boot halted his momentum. He got his feet under him. "River! Stand down. I ain't tellin' ya again."

She ran at him, but flipped into the air when he woulda struck her. Gorramed minx was readin' him, and that weren't hardly fair. She spun around him, dancin' a circle o' blows he was only able to block, but he couldn't return any of 'em. An' while he was thinkin' on what to try next, she slipped under his guard and gut-punched him. Even as instinct made him hunch over the injury, he knew what came next. He barely registered the upper-cut that threw him backwards, but he knew he'd feel it later. Now it was just the sensation o' fallin', tryin' to keep his chin tucked and his head from gettin' cracked as she tackled him to the floor. An' then tryin' to keep his chin tucked as she tried to wrap her hands around his throat.

"River! Gorram it, girl, cut it out!" His voice was rough with pain and with tryin' not t' give her access to choke him, an' he could hear he was a lot less calm than he wanted t' be. He brought his crossed arms down hard against her forearms at the same moment he planted his foot and rolled them over, trapping her against the floor and her hands between them.

He braced for a headbutt, but, at the last second, struck with his mouth. His lips caught hers, held. He angled and pressed, pushing the advantage of surprise, expecting to be bitten and bucked.

Instead, she opened, drawin' him in an' he sank. The taste of her, that sweetness, made his eyes fall closed, cutting off the view of those cold, flat eyes he didn't want to see. Her hands became claws that raked his chest as the new dominance game began.

He gripped her wrists and pried them away as his mouth worked hers, his lips sliding, tasting, searching for the warmth of River beyond the heat and the coldness of the weapon they'd made.

xxxxx

 _"River. Find a focus. Come back to me."_

 _"River."_

Not her thoughts but his. Not the girl, not the subject. Jayne. Stretched out on top of her, heat and heaviness. Pinning her to the floor, solid and cold. Kissing her, hard, wet, and wanting. Trying to draw out the girl. Trying to find her. So many feelings, so much, too much. She drew herself tight against them, but they battered at her brain. Part of her, that other part that wasn't hers, wanted to fight, wanted to win.

But hurting Jayne couldn't be winning.

His heart pounded against her and she followed it, walked in time with it until she came to the door between them, where, on the other side, he was still trying to reach her. She opened the door and surrendered.

Her body gave, softening against him as her eyes finally closed. He groaned against her mouth, a sound that rolled down through to her toes. He released her wrists, to tunnel the fingers of one hand into her hair, to tilt her head as his tongue swept into her mouth. His desire struck her, a dense, hot blast, with a dragging undertow of need that pulled her into a warmth she could drown in.

She pressed her hand against his chest. Had to feel the beat, had to keep the focus or be swept away. Didn't want to get lost and miss the drag of his lips to her jaw, down her throat. The feel of his hair between her fingers and his scruff against her neck. Of his hand stroking down her arm, down her side to her hip, gripping tight, making her body arch.

He pulled back and looked at her. Blue eyes, hot like lasers, burning into hers. Then he was jumping back. A string of profanity in two languages. Scuttling like a bug across the floor. Guilt, panic, concern, dread, recrimination. The grasping claw of want that tried to drag him back to her.

She sat up and drew her knees in, wrapped her arms around them to keep from following. To keep from invading his space so she could keep his heartbeat under her hand. She opened her senses to it, trying to focus only on the rhythm of Jayne and not the riot of emotion inside him.

"Jayne doesn't kiss on the mouth."

"I'm sorry." His voice, when it came to her outside her head, was rough and hoarse. "I shouldna touched you. Never shoulda put hands on you like that." Everything in his mind was about what it felt like to kiss her, how much he wanted to touch her, how wrong he'd been, how he was bad.

She tried to pull back from all the contradictions. Jayne was Jayne. He said what he meant, did what he wanted. Simple. Direct. But now, again, he was all twisting snakes that hissed and bit at him. She gritted her teeth against the chaos, rocking gently in time with that beat she could barely feel. "Had to. Had to use surprise. Had to stop the girl from going too far. Protect the girl from herself. Protect himself from the girl."

His answer was another round of cursing, rubbing his hands through his short hair. "You okay?"

She drew a deep breath and willed her thoughts to still. "I'm fine, thank you."

That drew a smile from him. Relief rolling cool over the panic, dulling the sharpest edge of the guilt.

"Guess that was stupid, jumpin' in like that. Figured if you got outta line, I'd just pick ya up and set ya back on it. Didn't figure on a ninety pound girl wipin' the floor with me."

She studied him. Embarrassment in his words, but not much as she expected. His ego was not crushed.

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "Shoulda thought more. Shoulda taken better care of ya."

She wanted to say something. Provide absolution. Words wouldn't come.

He walked over and hunkered down in front of her. "Let's see those wrists. Are ya hurt?" He held out his hands, but when she went to place her wrists on them, he flinched out the way, avoiding contact. When he took one in his fingertips, touching her just enough to guide her into turning it over, she pressed her skin against his, forcing the issue. His eyes flicked to hers and away. The claw of his want dragged over her again. Or maybe that was hers.

She turned her hand over and grasped his wrist, forcing him to look at her. "She wants to put herself back together. Jayne is helping. _Helping,_ " she insisted when he looked away. " _I_ lost control. Got lost in the program. You brought me back."

He swallowed. "Yeah, but-"

Ambivalence inside him. Wanted punishment for his transgression. Wanted to believe her words. Ambivalence inside her. The city after storm. Trees down, debris on the roads, but the air is finally clear. She was River. He was Jayne. He needed to be managed. "If he says he was wrong or sorry, she will hurt him." She arched a brow at him.

"Not again."

"Carry the girl to the showers," she ordered. "She smells like sweat."

"They're right there, lazy girl!"

She put her arms around his neck, angling her body sideways. "Beat up a fully grown man of action. She is tired. Very hard work."

"Oh, I feel for ya." He swept an arm under her knees and straightened up. "Man of action, huh?"

"Masculine ruggedness personified."

"Ain't I just."


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Thank you, , for filling in River's dialogue. And thank you for the comments, follows, and favs that keep me writing.

xxxxx

"He's coming with news. Can hear his shirt."

Jayne stopped the comb in mid stroke.

"He should continue the grooming ritual."

"Bad enough I gotta do anythin' with your hair, without you sayin' fancified stuff like 'groomin' ritual,'" he grumbled, building up an air of surliness for Wash, who was bound to make a fuss when he saw the little bit sittin' on the table, an' the mean _hun dan_ on the couch behind her, combin' out her wet hair.

A few weeks ago, Jayne had agreed to do it for her, simply because havin' her all brushed an' presentable lookin' made him look like a better caregiver than th' doc. An' that made him the winner. Didn't think much about it now, 'cept it was a mark o' how his mind was entirely elsewheres that he didn't think about them bein' out in the open lounge, 'steada up with the air recycler.

"This must be what going mad feels like." There was Wash, all starin' and predictable.

"Ain't one crazy person enough on this boat?"

"Oh, we're all mad here," River said.

"Great," Jayne growled. "But I ain't crazy-sittin' him, or fixin' his hair. And I ain't pickin' all the raisins outta his snack rations either."

"Severely dehydrated fruit. Obviously not healthy. Had to be quarantined."

"I got a one crazy person limit's all I'm sayin'."

"I'll keep that in mind," Wash said, dry as Zoe. "What are you doing?"

"He disengages the knots of the protein filaments."

"I'm combin' the girl's hair, what's it look like I'm doin'? You know, it's gettin' annoyin' all you actin' surprised every time I seem to know what baby-sitters do. I had brothers an' sisters, ya know."

"That right? Guess that makes sense. I suppose we just assumed you had fought and _eaten_ them, if we thought about it at all. Well, I'm supposed to tell you that Zoe's on her way back, but Mal and Simon are staying in town. Seems Cleveland can't be moved far and the doc wants to keep an eye on him. Kaylee's gone up to start dinner, and it'll be ready in about an hour."

"Fine."

Wash started to go, but turned back to whisper t' River, "He really does good work. You look fabulous. Think you could put in a good word for me? Because this," he tunneled his fingers into his hair and pulled it up in all directions, "I can't do a thing with it."

"He is not a miracle worker. Sorry."

"You're teaching her to be mean to me," Wash complained.

"She's a brat, natural. Ain't my doin'. Ask her brother."

Wash pounded up the stairs, and Jayne started where he'd left off, picking up another small section o' hair, startin' to comb from the bottom in short strokes. Like knife sharpenin', it was the kind of borin' chore he didn't much mind doin'. Usually he just zoned out an' let his mind wander into quiet.

This evenin', however, his mind had a particular place to wander to, where he didn't really want it goin'. He'd crossed the line, and he didn't know how he was gonna find his way back to the other side. How was he gonna go on treatin' her like a little sister when he'd had the woman in his arms? Not the lost girl, not the crazy person, not the weapon. River, the woman trapped inside all that.

He'd known she was there for a long time, felt her in the chemical reaction when the girl brushed by and there wasn't room to get out of her way. She'd glanced at him sometimes, from behind a curtain of hair, sassed him when the voices went quiet in her head. When his arms were full of trembling girl, exhausted from reliving another memory, when he felt the most doubt and guilt for setting her on this path, she was the one who reached out to soothe him.

She'd been under him, soft, lean, yielding curves. In that moment between struggling for dominance over the weapon and stuttering apologies to the girl, he'd tasted her. Brandywine an' cherries.

It was impossible to ignore her now. As he gathered up another section of hair, he couldn't not feel how silky her skin was against the backs of his fingers. He couldn't not notice that the air hummed with somethin' that felt like static, somethin' that felt like a planet with a little too much gravity, a moon with a little less oxygen.

He gritted his teeth an' focused on the task, separating' a tangle by easin' out each individual strand with his fingers, one at a time. Weren't right, what he done. Weren't right to let it change things for her. He didn't much care about Mal's trust, which the capt'n was none too generous in handin' out, and would yank back whenever it suited him. Cared even less about the doc, whose trust was an outright lie.

But the girl was somethin' different. It was somethin' real. Somethin' he'd somehow managed to earn, and he was screwin' it up. Screwin' things up for her because she needed him. He'd taken her down this road, an' he couldn't just up an' leave her there. When his road had been darkest, he'd found someone who'd made him feel safe. She deserved that. Deserved better than him.

She stiffened under his hands.

"You ain't readin' me again."

"She is trying to stay closed. Has a focus. His mind is a tangle of dark thoughts that press against her, try to find a way in. Recriminations and regret. The taste of ashes."

"I probly ain't the best company right now. Why don't you go help Kaylee get supper on?"

She spun around to face him, but he chose to look at the comb in his hands. "Trust. Defined as reliance on the integrity, strength, ability, surety of a person or thing. Confidence. This is not damaged." When he was silent, she went on, "The obligation or responsibility imposed on a person in whom confidence or authority is placed. Position of trust." She put her hand on his chest and gave him a push, but he still wasn't interested in meetin' her eyes. "A person on whom, or thing on which, one relies. Still Jayne."

"Shiny," he grumbled, feelin' low as a Heran tick. "Go find Kaylee."

He closed his eyes while she unfolded those long legs and swung off the table. He leaned back on the couch, refusing to watch her leave.

"Also," she said, from somewhere near the stairs, "the confident expectation of something. Hope."

Then her bare feet carried her up and away from him, leaving him alone with guilt and expectation.

xxxxx

 _It's time_ , she told herself. Again. But she wasn't ready. She just wanted a few more minutes of this. Safety. So much warmth. The steady thrum of his pulse against her.

Jayne's mind was full of ashes. The taste followed him into bitter sleep. Thought he had failed her. Thought he had damaged the trust. But she was the one who had used without consent.

He shifted in his sleep, his hand skimming up her back, trying to pull her closer. Her knees, curled between them, kept some distance. His knees drawn up, his body curled around hers, kept her grounded. Big yang around a smaller yin. Skewed proportion that maintained her balance. Not the way he would see it.

The suggestion she'd given him was wearing thin, the bonds of sleep growing weak. His fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of her neck. His cheek rubbed against the top of her head. Probability, based on observations over time, indicated that physical intimacies, however unintentional-in part due to being unintentional?-would increase the severity of the expected negative outcome.

"Jayne."

"Hmmm..."

"Jayne."

She slipped the last of the fading suggestion from his mind. "Wake."

He froze around her. She waited while he cataloged everything around him, while his arms pulled away and he retreated.

"I ain't dreamin'."

"No."

"This is my bunk."

"Yes."

"This ain't the first time."

That wasn't what she was expecting. Probabilities altered by unknown variables. "No."

"How?" Voice tight. Respiration steady, deliberate. Extreme muscle tension. Signs of stress. Probabilities indicating restrained anger.

She braced. "With my brain. Suggestion to sleep is obeyed until it is removed. First suggestion attempted during the bounty hunter's visit."

He flinched. "Should have been my job to take him out. I guard the ship, guard the crew. _My_ job. Wasn't meant I should be sleepin' while you're floatin' around in th' Black, takin' all the risks."

"Probabilities-"

"I don't ruttin' care about your probabilities," he snarled.

"I do." She wanted to burrow against him. Put a hand on his side instead. Maintained the distance. "Would have killed you. You and Zoe. The captain was high risk. Couldn't stop the encounter."

She could hear him grinding his teeth. Felt it in her head. "This ain't distractin' me from the question of why you're in my bunk."

"Safe here. Between Jayne and his girls. Safest place on Serenity."

"You think someone's comin' for ya again?"

"They come for her every night. Blue hands, needles under her skin, in her eyes. Pushing themselves into her. Tearing pieces-"

"All right, I get it," he snapped, but the hand that had been a fist above their heads stroked lightly down her hair, sweeping back the tide of acid panic. "Nightmares are worse, since you started diggin' in your head?"

She curled herself tighter, eyes closed against the needles. Felt the answer of his body heat returning. Barely touching. A wall between her and the outside. "More intense. Control is improved. She is able to focus. She must not wake Simon. Simon's needles would return, bring the sleep that can't be fought. Trap the girl in the past, in the chair-"

"Stop," he growled, and the armor of his protectiveness held the girl together. He breathed deep, something warm flickering at the edges. She opened to his memory. Warmth wrapping around the boy in the night. Apples and beeswax, chasing darkness away.

For a few minutes, there was just quiet and Jayne. "Look," he said, his low voice rumbling under her ear, "you don't knock out your own bodyguard. That's just stupid. Thought you was supposed to be some kinda genius. You wanna put someone under, try that needle happy brother o' yours. And your cap'n. Both of them got suspicious, uncharitable minds, and no great fondness for me. Then I reckon you can come on down here an' we'll see how it goes."

 _"An' you will suck it up an' deal with it, cuz there ain't no one else an' you owe her."_

"She can stay?"

" _I_ ," he corrected. "Said so, didn't I? Now hush. I'm tired."

"This was not an outcome suggested by the data. Probabilities-"

"Again, don't care about your _feng le_ mathemagical _da bian hua._ Care about sleep. Ya got what you wanted, brat. Conversation over."

"Must be missing important data."

"Reckon that's so. Hush."

River hushed. She knew Jayne had reached a limit. Had made a huge concession to the girl. Ambivalence was a puddle of subtly pleasant ripples, and a slow, loud drip of discomfort. Doubt. Obligation. Indulgence. Commitment. Wariness. Protection.

She knew he didn't sleep again for a long time.

xxxxx

 _hun dan-_ bastard

 _feng le-_ crazy

 _da bian hua-_ shit talk


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: Once upon a time, there was an evil cat and a laptop. And then there was a fried keyboard. The End. Epilogue: But then there was The Cloud! And there was great rejoicing. So glad to have backups, so there won't have to be too much interruption in story service while we deal with the expensive consequences of pet ownership.

xxxxx

"Jayne, how's about you help me get this stuff stowed before we take off?"

"Yeah, sure, Mal." Jayne tried to roll the stiffness from his shoulders. He felt like a dog's _pi gu._

"You all right there?"

 _Except for not getting half enough sleep?_ "Shiny." Wrangling ninety pounds of thrashin' girl, tryin' to keep her quiet, was bad enough when they were away from everyone else. When Zoe and Wash were right next door, it was downright dangerous. Hadn't taken long to get her to settle, but the terror in that girl, the pain of her stifled sobs made him sick, and had kept him awake long after the storm was over. "What have we got?"

"Buncha equipment parts, due for Bellerophon."

Jayne stopped with a heavy crate in mid-swing. " _Fuhn pi._ "

"Got somethin' you wanna say?"

"Hell yeah I do! Got two wanted fugies on board and you wanna take 'em back to th' Core, an' back to the most Fed-infested, heavily patrolled planet in the system. To deliver machine parts."

"It's nice to know someone listens when I talk," Mal said, going back for another load. "Warms the cockles o' my heart, Jayne. What are cockles, anyway?"

"Possible bastardization of medieval Latin _cochleae cordis,_ ventricles of the heart."

Both men whirled toward River.

Mal made a face. "Sneakin' up on us, eh, little girl? Heard this _hun dan_ took good care of you while your brother was gone, that so?"

"Of course, Captain. Jayne guards the ship, guards the crew. Extra responsibility guarding the girl, with exemplary performance. Extra monetary compensation should be considered."

Jayne laughed while Mal choked.

"That's about enough outta you, little one," Mal scolded. "You get this guy pesterin' me for a bonus, I'm gonna tan your backside. Scamper off now."

Jayne set his teeth. He wanted to tell Mal it weren't right to talk to her like she's a little kid. Might be confusin', the way she talked, but that didn't mean she was all addled an' simple, with the mind of child. It was insultin'. But Jayne knew he wasn't in a comfortable position to be pointin' out to Mal that she was an adult, and that he'd noticed.

"Got a long trip ahead of us," Mal said. "One more thing we gotta pick up, a load o' crystal from the mining colony at Haven."

Jayne paused again, but went back to stacking.

"That gonna be a problem for you?" Mal asked, though his tone made it more, _"Are you gonna make that a problem for me?"_

"Nah, Mal, I ain't got a problem. Truth is, that fallin' out I had with the shepherd, it don't sit well. Reckon I'd like the chance to clear th' air between us."

"That so?"

It was so. Much as he hated it, part of him missed the old man. Missed talkin' to 'im. Especially now when he had all this stuff twistin' his guts, an' no one to help him sort it out. Was a shock, like a bandage tore off a wound he thought was scarred over. Wasn't okay, what the preacher had done, but the raw, backstabbing pain of it had faded. For Mal, Jayne shrugged. "Preacher an' I had a disagreement. He...pushed where he shouldn't have, and I over-reacted. I can admit that. Ain't the first time I ever lost my temper, nor the first one on the crew I tried to take a chunk outta. You wanna act like it's just 'cause o' that he decided to jump ship, but it wasn't."

After a few minutes of silent work, Mal gave. "No, I know it wasn't. He wasn't thinkin' on goin' for a while. Felt like he was losin' his way. Same..."

When the thought trailed off, Jayne knew what it was. Same as Inara. He wanted to say somethin'. Somethin' like, if he could work up the stones to make things right with the preacher, seemed like Mal could at least send Inara a wave, see how she was doin'. Take a first step toward askin' her to come back.

But he didn't stick his nose in, just finished securing the straps around the cargo an' straightened up. "If that's all..."

"Yeah," Mal said, like he was still thinkin' on the other thing. "Yeah, that's all. Thanks, Jayne...for...helpin' out with this," he added, too late.

 _"Thanks, Jayne, for not calling me on my own_ da bian hua _," was more like it,_ Jayne thought. But thanks was thin on the ground these days, so he'd take what he could get.

xxxxx

River lowered to the floor in front of Jayne, folding herself between his legs. As often as they'd done this, as much as he tried to hide it, the movement had never failed to get a reaction from him. Fortunately, the girl was very good at hiding her perception. She'd had an abundance of practice lately, as reaction flared through him with every shift of proximity. Ever since the kiss.

She was glad to be facing away from him. If he'd seen the heat bloom in her cheeks, he wouldn't need to be a Reader to know where her mind had just gone.

She breathed out slowly as she leaned back against him, closed her eyes and drifted as she brought his heartbeat to the center of her consciousness. She was still aware of the cool floor beneath her, of his legs on either side of her, one bent at the knee, one stretched out before them. Of his arms settling lightly around her. Her cage. No, her safety net, ready when she needed it.

Then she was on the barren, colorless moon, the grit of the grey sand cold under her feet. The drum beat, steady and deliberate, and now she knew it wasn't a warning of a coming battle, but a beacon home. The pit yawned open when she was ready, no longer a surprise, and she didn't try to climb down, but stepped over the edge, surrendering herself to the descent into those icy depths.

The walls of the chasm were no longer smooth, but pocked with dark caverns. Memories previously excavated. She floated on the downdraft of thick coldness that pulled, swallowed, the panic of drowning beaten back by the pulsing of her beacon.

Faint lights appeared, repellent and sinister, but beckoning her to come in and know. She aimed for one with a twist of her body and her feet found purchase on a new ledge. She allowed herself three beats to prepare, and then stepped into the light.

 _"Miss Tam, may I present Miss Androvna."_

 _The girl was as pale as River. The shadows under her blue eyes made them look huge on her face above red lips. Blonde hair was pulled into a tight bun at the crown of her head. Subject Androvna wore a padded vest over black leathers, and grasped a sword in her leather clad fist._

 _River looked down, feeling her high pony tail swing forward as she took in her own boots, and the rest of her identical gear. She raised her sword a little, testing its balance, noting the way it caught the light. In the white room, where even their eyes wouldn't shine, the blades glinted._

 _"Positions, please," the voice over the speaker told them. Subject Androvna dropped into a ready stance and Subject Tam mirrored her without thinking. "Commence."_

 _There was a pause, a long moment in which they only stared at each other, blue eyes into brown, both flat and dead. Subject Tam was the first to move, a small step forward, and a little to the side, her blade still held away from her. She studied the reaction of Subject Androvna, looking for predilections, attempting to gather predictive data on her target. But her opponent's counter step was unhurried and graceful, and gave her nothing._

 _They circled each other, patiently studying, calculating, and it was Subject Androvna who took the first strike. Subject Tam dipped and spun from the blade, in what she knew was a movement that would look fluid and beautiful to those who observed. She refrained from a counterstrike. She wanted to dance._

 _Dance she did, a whirling, elegant display of form and grace, opening herself to Subject Androvna, feeling her opponent's every intention, every frustration, while Subject Tam basked in the satisfaction of her own cunning and her opponent's growing anger._

 _"Subject Tam will engage her target."_

 _She pouted and sighed, but raised her sword to parry the next attack. The sound of steel striking steel finally echoed in the white room. A flurry of blows, initiated by one, parried by the other, then reversed, until the noise parodied the harsh chiming music of a carillon that played to the beat of a distant drum._

 _Fire erupted across her arm. Subject Tam flipped into the air, putting several feet between herself and her target when she landed, and stared at the gash in her sleeve that seeped red tears onto the white floor._

 _First blood had been drawn, and not by her. Unacceptable._

 _When Subject Androvna initiated again, the counter of Subject Tam was fast and harsh, driving her target back across the room. The burning pain of the cut was forgotten the the rush of adrenaline it gave her, fueling her controlled rage and innate desire to win. To be the best. Always._

 _Attack, counter. Counter, attack. Then Subject Androvna lay on the floor, her sword still spinning across the room. Her chest heaved under the boot of Subject Tam, wisps of blonde hair stuck to her face, blue eyes no longer flat, but blazing with hatred and the humiliation of her defeat. Subject Tam smiled as she lowered the point of her blade to her opponent's throat._

 _"Yield."_

 _"I yield," the red lips formed in reply._

 _"No mercy," said the voice on the speaker. "Finish it, Miss Tam."_

 _Subject Tam's sword wavered, and then moved away from Subject Androvna._

 _"Finish the exercise, Miss Tam."_

 _"No," she whispered, removing her boot from the girl's chest to take a step back._

 _"Last warning, Miss Tam. Consequences will be initiated. Miss Androvna has been defeated. She is to be eliminated. Terminate Miss Androvna."_

 _Another step back as Androvna, eyes wide with terror, got to her feet._

 _"Now!"_

 _Pain ripped through River's body, electricity coming up through the floor, seizing every muscle with white fire. And then darkness._

 _In the dark, the drum still beat, but she was lost, disoriented. The drum echoed in the space, a beacon without direction._

 _Hands grasped her arms, raising her from the cool floor. Her heart still raced as she forced her lids to open to the white room. Across from her, two guards in blue body armor dragged Androvna to her feet._

 _"Stand up," she was ordered. A hand squeezed painfully around the cut on her arm and she struggled to get her feet under her._

 _A man walked across the floor, shoes clicking on the smooth surface. He picked up her sword in his blue gloved hand, testing its balance the way she had. His counterpart walked behind her, stood on her other side._

 _"Congratulations on your success, Miss Tam."_

 _"Another noteworthy achievement. Take the blade, Miss Tam."_

 _River shook her head._

 _"Take the blade, Miss Tam."_

 _The sword was forced into her palm, cold blue wrapping her fingers around it. "This is a good death," he assured her._

 _She shook her head. Across from her, Androvna struggled._

 _"Clear," the other said._

 _All the hands released her a moment before she was struck with the crackling, blue light. The scream tore from her mouth, delayed, like an afterthought. She was dragged from the floor and the sword was put back into her hand._

 _"Finish the exercise."_

 _"Eliminate the target."_

 _"Clear."_

 _Again and again until Androvna was a pale shadow that no longer struggled, until River knew little besides the pulse of pain that beat in her head like a drum. Until blue hands wrapped around hers on the hilt and blue armored thugs thrust her forward. Until the sword pierced the padded vest, pierced flesh, angled through bone, and sank. Until a red mouth fell open in a silent gasp, and blue eyes faded to black._

xxxxx

 _fuhn pi-_ talking out of your ass

 _da bian hua-_ shit talk


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Sorry I've neglected you. I've had to take a bit of break to deal with some life stuff, and I'm still dealing. I've had a hell of a week, especially yesterday, and then Virtuella came through and reviewed every episode so far. 16 emails of nice things really improved my quality of life. But now I feel super guilty for neglecting you nice people. So I want to give you the two chapters I have completed, and let you know that it may be a while before I can complete the next arc of this thing and post regularly again. Hope this gives you some happy reading for weekend. Thank you all so much for sticking with me and the story.**

 **In our last episode, Mal informed Jayne of an upcoming stop at Haven, and River recovered a memory about Academy peer Androvna.**

 **xxxxx**

River wove her light suggestions of sleep into their dreams as she drifted down the crew corridor. She stopped at Jayne's hatch, opening herself. He was the only one awake, and his constant anxiety crackled. A familiar, icy crust, so much a part of him that he was barely aware it, most of the time. Except when the crystals sharpened and grew inward to his flesh. But that wasn't the case now. Now it was just the shimmering cold of someone whose senses were always exposed, and who was conditioned to expect bad things to happen.

She pressed the button, knowing he heard the connection being made inside the mechanism, that he had been waiting for it. As she descended the ladder, he finally came into view, sitting up, legs stretched out on the bed. He didn't smile or greet her, just assessed her in the dim light with those icy blue eyes. Jayne's quarters were never completely dark. The dark room was for when you were bad, and sometimes there were monsters. Her eyes flicked to the wall beside his bed.

"The girls have been relocated," she observed.

He glanced down to where the mounting board was now secured along the side of the bed, and he shrugged. She realized she was unconsciously rubbing the bruise on her arm and dropped her hand.

"Well I'm goin' t' sleep. You wanna just stand there and watch me, reckon that's your choice." He slid down into bed, and turned his back to her. "Kinda creepifyin', though."

She climbed into the high, narrow bunk, making sure to bring her legs down hard on his as she clambered over to get between him and the wall. He was still hissing complaints about that when she rolled with his blanket, turning her back on him as she jerked it away.

"Gorrammit, girl," he growled as she stiffled giggles. He jerked her back against him, retrieving the blanket and spreading it over them. "I ain't never had such an unconsiderate bunkmate."

"I take so much looking after."

"That's for damned sure," he agreed, as pleasure rippled over him. Whether it was from her correct pronoun usage or the temporarily respite from his anxiety, she didn't know. She could still feel the laughter in her chest when tension stole him back. The safety net came down around her. "You wanna tell me what you saw?"

She studied the wall, reached out to touch the old tarp that now hung crookedly over the space. She could feel something under it, spongy and uneven. Scraps of foam padding. A padded wall for the crazy girl.

 _"Even her hands is pretty."_

"Somethin' you wanna keep then?" he asked, referring to the things she didn't want to talk about.

"No," she hissed.

"You know the drill then. You get it out, and you look straight at it so's you can let it go."

"Can't let it go. She doesn't deserve exculpation." She felt his bewildered irritation. "Release from fault, guilt, or blame."

"That so? Guessin' ya killed somebody then."

She gasped. Not that he had guessed, but at the casual, blunt, Jayne-like way he'd said it. Tearing through her attempt at defense like tearing open the back of her dress.

"Is that why you don't wanna tell me? Think I ain't already figured that out? Think it'll matter?"

"Matters!"

They were quiet. She knew he was waiting. Then he was done waiting.

"Did they deserve it?"

"No."

"Did you have a choice?"

Her body stiffened tighter with remembered pain while she searched to find the words to explain to him. To pinpoint the moment where she made the choice that made it her fault.

"'Swhat I thought."

She whipped around and thumped her fist on his chest. "You don't know."

"So tell me. Hey," he bumped a fist lightly against her chin, "look me in the eye an' tell me. However deep you gotta go inside my head, you just hang out there an' wait. When you get to the part where I blame you, when I think it's your fault, you can stop."

She gave in and told him, not looking. Eye contact not needed for looking inside. Curled under his chin because the heat, the safety net, the pulse that beat there were what she needed. She told him about white rooms and leather, about dancing with swords. About wanting to be the deadliest, most graceful best. About hard hands and blue hands. She told him about electric shocks and the slide of metal against flesh while he seethed inside, while she felt the heart under her hand tearing again. No blame, but swamped in sorrow, tenderness, and rage, he anchored her to the here and now. This Jayne, whom no one else could see. Her Jayne.

Hers, and not hers.

"She knew," he told her in that voice that wasn't gentle. "She knew it wasn't you. Weren't nothin' you coulda done to save that girl. She was already dead, just didn't know it yet. They's the ones that knew, before they put her in the room, when she was just a name on a clipboard. Weren't you that decided." And then his voice finally lost that edge and softened, like his touch along her spine. "Weren't ever you."

xxxxx

Shepherd book smiled over his flock. It was good to see his crew again. He was sorry to see Inara still had not returned to them, sorry to see the shadow of that on the captain. But they seemed to be doing well without his guidance-hadn't killed each other yet, at least. River, especially, seemed better, more coherent, more centered than he'd ever seen her. She danced in the firelight, looking like the carefree girl she should have been, pulling with both hands as she tried to get her brother to join her. Simon, too, seemed less weighed down with worry, and spent more time stealing shy glances at the mechanic than concerned glances at his sister, which was just as it should be. The lady in question conspired against him, giving him a good shove that sent him stumbling into the heart of the revelers.

"This is a mighty fine shindig, Shepherd," Mal said.

"Well thank you, Captain. They are a mighty fine group of people."

Wash wrapped his arms around Zoe. "See, I was thinkin' it was more of a hootenanny."

Zoe chuckled. "What's the difference?"

"Well, a shindig, that's-"

"Aw, not this again," Jayne interrupted, but not unkindly, more in the tone of sharing in an old joke.

Book glanced over at him, nearly meeting his eyes, but looked away again quickly. He was surprised by Jayne's willingness to tolerate his presence at all; he had no wish to push his luck. "I'm just happy to have so many of my might fine people in one place."

A look passed between Jayne and captain, something Book couldn't quite pick up on in the flickering light. Jayne cleared his throat. "Uh, Preacher, you think you and I could talk?"

Book turned to him, nonplussed.

"I don't wanna take y'away from the party, iffn you're keen on stayin', I just..."

"No. No, that's fine, Jayne. Come this way."

Book looked briefly to Mal, who studiously ignored him. If the captain thought Jayne was a threat or in any way disposed to violence, he would have stepped in. Book led the way, away from the fire, toward the cluster of small houses nestled into the foot of the mountain that protected them from the worst of the windy seasons. He glanced back to make sure that Jayne was following. The big man's features were lost in the shadows.

"Is my house all right?" he asked. "We'll have privacy there."

"Yeah, sure."

"Should I be concerned?"

"Does it matter?" Jayne's voice was flat, and gave away nothing of what he might be thinking.

"Suppose I'd like to say a prayer or two before I go," Book suggested, not sure how much he was really joking, but more in an attempt to bring the problems out in the open than anything else. He opened the unlocked door to his cottage. "After you."

Jayne moved past him, shrinking away to avoid any contact, as was his way, and Book closed the door behind him. He'd left a low fire burning, but he flicked on an electric light as he moved across the room to build it up again. Jayne shrugged out of his jacket and dropped onto the sofa, making it looks smaller than it was. The thick knots of his biceps strained the sleeves of a t-shirt that pulled tight across his chest. He wasn't letting himself go, but there was something different about him, something Book couldn't quite put his finger on.

"That what you think o' me, Preacher, that I'm lookin' t' kill ya in private?"

"I think if you wanted to kill me, you'd do it honestly, in front of everyone, or not at all."

"Yeah, well, I ain't interested in killin' ya. Anymore, anyways."

"Good to know." It was tremendously good to hear those words from Jayne's lips. But not because he'd feared for his life. Just...because. "Can I get you anything? I could make tea."

"Don't want no tea."

"Answers then," Book guessed.

"Why, you got any o' those? Reckon if you knew anything that would help the doc fix his sister, you woulda found a way to tell him. If you know stuff about my past I don't remember or haven't figured out, I probly don't wanna know anyways. Ain't about that."

Book narrowed his eyes, trying to discern the change. Trying to figure out why a man who, by all rights, shouldn't have any interest in speaking to him, a man who wasn't known for being civil as a general rule, was speaking so civilly to him now. "Just what's troubling you, son?"

Jayne sent him a glare that had him stepping back. He recovered himself and sank into his easy chair just across the small room from Jayne's icy gaze.

"I ain't...forgiven you, for your part in what was done. I'm probly madder about that than I have been for a long time. An' I ain't forgiven you for livin' alongside me all that time, knowin' what you knew, and keepin' it from me."

"Fair enough."

Jayne seemed to struggle with what he wanted to say, or how he should say it, which was unusual. He was a man of few words, and he was direct. He began slowly, haltingly, "I think there's a point where people get to choose who they're gonna be. Maybe not everyone, but some people. Reckon you hit that point an' chose religion. Don't make ya blameless on all that come before, but I reckon that oughta count for somethin'."

"That's...generous."

Jayne gave a curt nod. "Reckon I hit that juncture o' my life early on. Too early, maybe, an' I ain't prouda all the choices I made. Most o' the time I's just glad they were mine to make, an' it don't go too far beyond that. I ain't one to lose sleep over things what can't be changed."

Book struggled for meaning, to connect the dots so he could lead the boy where he wanted to go. "Sounds like maybe you're having some regrets."

Jayne huffed out a breath. "Now I done _just_ said that ain't me."

"My mistake."

"I don' know. Maybe you ain't wrong. Look, this here's the thing. I started somethin'. I mean, I went and got myself involved in somethin' probly weren't none o' my business. At the time it seemed like..."

"A good idea?"

"No. Kinda. More like there weren't no one else to do the job the way it oughta be done, and I felt...kinda obligated."

"And now?"

"Now I feel like I'm in over my head. Like I was the last thing she needed. Like I'm just gonna screw her up worse. She's there, right now, at that point where she gets to decide who she's gonna be, and who's she talkin' to about it? Me? How's that gonna work out? How's she not gonna come out twisted and wrong? But what can I do, just dump 'er on her brother? On Mal? Preacher, they got no clue what's goin' on, not a gorram clue what's goin' on with her or how to deal with her. They may think they wanna know, but when it comes down to it, they don't. An' she don't want 'em to, an' I'm the last one's gonna blame her for that, but I'm stuck, see? An' I-"

"Jayne!" Book interrupted, rubbing the headache at his temples. "Take a breath and slow down. Do I understand that you've been helping River with her problems?"

"Ain't you been listenin'? Am I borin' you?"

"Let's just... make sure I get it all straight so I can be helpful."

"Fine. Yes."

Book led Jayne through a series of questions to get a clearer picture, and ended up getting answers to a lot of his own questions about how Jayne had coped in the aftermath of his escape, how the man had managed to pull himself back together into reasonably functional, if not always entirely pleasant, human being. He also gathered that Simon and the captain were aware, and had approved, the time he spent with the River, the latter more than the former as far as the approval went, but were in the dark in terms of the specifics of what could be described as Jayne's course of treatment for the girl.

"So far, everything seems in order. Simon tells me that River is doing much better. River herself seems healthier and more coherent than I've ever seen her. In short, it seems that you're on the right track."

"Ain't that alarmin', all by itself?"

"I don't see why."

"Look, at first it made sense because I went through somethin' similar. I knew how it works, and I could tell her what she needed to do. And then she could talk to me about it because ain't nothin' about it was gonna surprise me. I didn't throw up my hands and soil myself and start wailing 'my poor sister!' an' cryin' my damned eyes out. But now she's at that point where she gets to choose to be somethin' other than what they were makin' her, and what if she comes out wrong, because of somethin' I said?"

"I see. Having that kind of influence over another person, that's a big responsibility."

"Which I was not lookin' to have."

"What do you mean by 'what if she comes out wrong?'"

"You know, wrong. What if, because I'm the only person she talks to, she comes out like me? What if it's my fault she lives a mean, short life o' crime? What if it's my fault she goes around so angry at that world there isn't hardly nobody can stand bein' in the same room with her?"

"Is that what you're like?"

"How long you been gone? You goin' senile or somethin'?"

Book leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Jayne's self image was not the source of his complaint. "Perhaps you could have some faith in River herself, to make the right choices. The girl _is_ a genius."

"Ya think?" Jayne sounded hopeful.

"I could...try speaking with her. Perhaps ascertain the extent of your influence on her decision making?"

"Yeah, that sounds good." Jayne's face clouded again, and he looked more distraught than before. "An' if...iffn you decide I ain't a good influence?"

"I'll tell you."

"Not Mal or Simon."

"Mal and Simon haven't asked me anything."

"And then it's up to me, what to do about it."

Book frowned. "Something else is troubling you."

Jayne got up suddenly and started pacing the small room. He finally stopped by the fire, arms crossed, giving Book the view of his back, bowed head and hunched shoulders. "What if I can't let her go?"

Oh, this was troubling. "Jayne, do we need to talk about the Special Hell?" he asked sternly.

"Ain't lookin' to go there, Preacher, an' I ain't done nothin'. Leastways I don't think I have."

"You don't _think_ you have."

Jayne hunkered down and pulled a stick from the basket of kindling. He started to whittle it with the knife from his belt. "Well, I mean, she kissed me once, but that weren't hardly nothin'. And I kissed her once. And that was somethin'..."

"I see..." he said slowly, giving himself a moment to curb his reaction. If Jayne wanted someone to fly off the handle without hearing him, he would have had this conversation with the captain instead. "You don't normally kiss women, as I recall. As a matter of personal policy."

"Exactly. Makes things all confused."

"Kissing River confused you?"

"Not as such. Look, I don't wanna talk on that."

"Okay, is there anything else that might put you at risk for the Special Hell? Maybe include any behaviors you might hide from the rest of the crew."

"Well, I mean, I hold her a lot. When she needs me to. An' I keep her hair brushed-but Wash caught me at that once, so they probably know. An' I let her put her hands on me-nowhere unseemly like, but the rest of 'em seem to find that concernin'. An' she sleeps in my bed."

"She slee- Just what does that mean, Jayne?"

"Means what it means. She sneaks in my room at night, sleeps in my bunk. On accounta the nightmares and such, and her brother always gettin' upset and wantin' to pump her full o' drugs."

Book pinched the bridge of his nose. "Do you do anything in your bunk besides sleep?"

Jayne shrugged, still whittling. "Same stuff we do out of it. We talk, she cries, I hold her."

"But nothing...?"

"I already told ya I ain't lookin' t' go to your Special Hell."

Book had to take some time process. Jayne didn't seem to mind the silence. He flicked the remains of his stick in the fire and started on another.

"This sounds like a very...intimate relationship."

"Yeah."

So here was, perhaps, the real crux of Jayne's dilemma. Not just his responsibility as River's caregiver, but his ambivalence about the relationship evolving into something else. Something completely outside of his experience, and which would not be welcomed by pretty much everyone he had to interact with.

"Thing is," Jayne said quietly, "I know it ain't right. I know I ain't good enough. I just...can't see how to get clear right now. Sometimes I think, when she's better, you know? Then I could take a step back. But what if she gets better and I can't do the right thing?" He shrugged. "When she's in her right mind again, maybe she'll take the step back for both of us."

"Do you love her?"

"Does it matter?"

 _Oh my dear boy,_ Book thought, _I think it matters a great deal._


	18. Chapter 18

"River," Book laid a hand on the young woman's shoulder. "I've hardly had a chance speak with you this visit. Let's walk while they get the ship ready to go." He didn't miss the way her eyes cut to Jayne, or Jayne's brief nod before she allowed Book to lead her away from the activity in the cargo hold. They strolled back into the sunlight of Haven, the girl raising her arm over her eyes against the glare. "It does take some getting used to," he agreed.

"Preacher-man is pleased. He has landed in a good place, doing good work for good people."

He smiled. "I do find myself pleased with where my path has led me. There's some shade over here. Let's sit down." He started to lead her over to a spot where a crate sat in the shade of one of the buildings.

"Serenity was not a good place. Full of moral ambiguity. The goodness of the people questionable."

"Now that's just not so," he said sternly. "I have no doubts about the goodness of a single person on that ship. The moral ambiguity...that was a problem."

"Moral: of, relating to, or concerned with the principles or rules of right conduct, or the distinction between right and wrong. Ambiguity: The doubtfulness or uncertainty as regards interpretation. The possibility of interpreting in two different ways. The condition of admitting more than one meaning."

Book nodded as he sat and the girl climbed onto an old piece of equipment, the function of which he couldn't even guess.

"The pages are black and white, but their lives swirl with grey imperatives. Deadwood, Haven, a study of light and dark, sunlight and mineshafts. Simple people living simple lives, where good and bad are based on traditional ethical constructs. Serenity is a shell of grey in the Black. She shelters the people against the darkness. The people are grey shells, containing their own darkness. They carry it inside. Shells within shells, like matryoshka*. Wants and needs create a climate of moral complexity, complications of traditional ethics. 'If someone ever tries to kill you, you try to kill 'em right back.' Kill or be killed, which is the greater evil? Is it wrong to do wrong to prevent a wrong? Which wrong is more wrong? Which grey choice contains more black? Which grey choice will lead to a darker path? The shepherd became uncomfortable with the questioning. He should shut his mouth or catch flies."

Book shut his mouth, ran his fingers over the Bible in his pocket. "Is that what you think, River? That I ran from Serenity's morally complex climate to find a place where I wouldn't have to ask myself the hard questions? That I'm hiding?"

"Everyone is hiding."

Book tried to put his head back together. This was not what he had planned to discuss with the girl.

"I understand that you have been spending a great deal of time with Jayne since I left."

He didn't miss the way her eyes narrowed and her mouth went flat. "Jayne is helping."

"Oh, I don't doubt that. Only the three of us know how much you have in common. A closeness has developed between you that some might find...morally, or rather, ethically, complex."

She tilted her head. "Jayne is uncomfortable with complexity."

"He is. He's a simple man who likes to keep things simple."

"Relationships are transactional. Value for value. Gun for hire. Sex for money. What's in it for me?"

"I would call that an astute assessment of how Jayne relates to others."

"More complexity exists. Suffice it to say that Jayne doesn't seek where he does not expect to pay, and resents being asked where payment is not offered. Habituation to a mindset. Other styles of interaction create confusion on internal balance sheet."

"That's an interesting analogy."

"Not precisely analogy..." she waved her hand. "Jayne's relationship with the girl is not transactional. Multiple complexities exist. Layers and shading. He gives without expectation."

"That's a good thing."

"A relationship, in which one party has the expectation of receiving the bulk of the benefits, while the other is made to believe that his own needs are wrong, bad, and would be met with social retribution, is a good thing?"

"Well...when you put it like that...it's... It's a complicated issue, River."

"She is a broken girl, a broken woman. Broken people do not have rights to certain kinds of affection, relationships, contact, or feelings within the social construct. She must take without giving, he must give without taking, because she will always be seen as broken and less in the eyes of the social group."

"River, that's simply not true."

"Just because it is ugly, just because he doesn't want it to be true, does not make it so. She is broken, but she is not a child."

"I don't mean to insult you," he responded to her tone, trying to remember if he had called her a child.

"She is always 'the girl.' Even in her own mind. It is never _meant_ as an insult."

"It's not...it's...we're not talking about biology, or intelligence. I suppose it's just a reference to your...innocence."

Her eyes went flat, her voice cold. "She has been stripped of innocence. She is the least innocent creature you have ever met."

"That is a wrongness and a tragedy, if that's so, but-"

"The shepherd did not transact with Jayne."

"Excuse me?" Book asked, confused by the change of subject.

"A preacher preaches, for the reward of spreading his message, the possibility of the message being accepted. The captain fears the message because he was betrayed. He was forsaken but still believes. Doesn't want to accept. Doesn't want to listen."

"Another astute observation."

"The message does not apply to Jayne. The message applies to people who are redeemable."

"Jayne is _not_ beyond redemption. No man is."

"She refers to his inner construct, his own belief. The shepherd's message has a weight comparable with superstition. Odds against salvation as an achievable goal. Standards too high, out of reach to those who are tainted by 'kill or be killed' as a reality rather than an intellectual debate. Best not to believe in that case, live with the belief of certain damnation. Just in case there is a chance, however, knock wood, fingers crossed, 'put in a good word for me, Shepherd.'"

"I see..."

"The message was never _for_ Jayne, and when the preacher-man spent time with Jayne, he preached little and talked more. He asked questions others never bothered asking. Helping with exercise or talking to pass time, transactional exchange but also not transaction. Shades of actual regard. Friendship."

"I do consider Jayne a friend."

"Jayne doesn't make friends. Jayne doesn't work for free. Jayne doesn't get involved with women who aren't professional." Her expression turned stormy. "Jayne would have called the preacher-man a friend, but it was all a lie. Shepherd's attentions were not about the man, but about the boy, the experiment."

Outrage flared. "That is not true."

She shrugged. "True for Jayne. Sat some nights with the shepherd, talking, listening, learning. Thought 'Maybe this is what it's like to have a father.'"

Her words punched into him, and he could see that she knew it. Her willingness to intentionally cause him pain shocked him. "Why are you telling me this?"

She was quiet for a moment. He wondered if she was struggling for words, or if she simply wasn't quite certain herself. "He should know what he did. Thought to unburden himself of his own secrets and stole Jayne's only friend. Jayne struggles, needs his friend, needs guidance from the father, and the preacher-man hides in his Haven where black is black and white is white, and the big decision is what to read on the seventh day!"

Book tried to maintain his outward calm, but her rising voice shook him. "You're angry."

"Of course she is angry! She is crazy and broken. Man was expelled from the garden, cut off from the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge, so they play at God to make the better world. He tortures the boy, cuts him off forever from his rightful place in the social construct, studies a book of contradictions and fallacious assertions and thinks that gives him the right to make judgments?"

"I'm not here to judge, I-"

"False! He came here asking for judgment. Asked the shepherd, wanted the father, it's all confused. Intellectual children of the father and his peers, they raped the girl. Peeled back the coverings of her secret places." As her voice strained, choked down to a painful whisper, she started to strike at her head with the heel of her hand. "Touched her with greedy hands, thrust in what wasn't wanted. Left their stain inside..."

"River, calm down." Book's heart pounded. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. He was probably the last one who should approach her, but he could see no one nearby, and he couldn't leave her by herself.

"They struggle to discern black and white on a barren moon that has no sun, in a pit where the only light leads to colorful horrors. Truths mixed with lies, real and not real. He helps her sort it out. True and not true, useful and not useful, safe and not safe. Why does he doubt? Why do they all doubt? Why are their minds so small? He" she pointed at Book, "is the false shepherd, the betraying father-friend, the grandfather of the pit. Why should he decide in what way the girl is allowed to be loved? DOES THAT SEEM RIGHT TO YOU?!"

"River, please, that's not-"

"It is! The mind of the touchstone writhes with snakes. Contradictions and fallacious assertions. Questions of worth and worthiness. Rules of a social construct that provides no shelter. The shepherd will decide based on the black and white pages, based the rules for broken things, and she will lose and be lost. Back to the pit, down the hole, Alice or Mary Ann, or Peter Pan, never to grow up, light fading because no one believes."

Footsteps pounded the sandy surface of the packed earth and Jayne came around the corner of the building at a run, barely slowing when he saw them, not stopping until he reached the girl and sought to pluck her from her perch. Book watched carefully. River was clawing at her hair, knocking one bent arm repeatedly into the side of her head, her feet in constant motion, sliding back and forth against the metal she was sitting on. Jayne wasn't gentle when he grabbed her arms and pinned them to her sides, but he also showed neither anger nor surprise when she kicked his jaw hard enough to snap his head to the side. He kept his hold on her arms and yanked her down, pulling her against him.

The shepherd stood, feeling finally freed from paralysis, intent on helping or going for help as a brief struggle ensued. Jayne took her to the ground. Sheltered from view by the equipment, he forced the girl into his lap, stilling her kicking legs by wrapping his own around them, and locking one arm around her upper body. The other hand crossed to hold her head in place, to keep her from banging it back against his chest. There was strain in every line of the man's body, but Book couldn't tell if it was effort to keep the girl from hurting either of them, or if was simply the tension. The one exception was the hand that cradled her head, the thumb that stroked across her wet cheek. Jayne's head was bent to her ear, speaking to the girl in a low voice, words the shepherd couldn't catch.

Book saw the moment the fight went out of her, when her head fell to the side, when Jayne's hold loosened. Book found himself sinking back to his own seat in relief. She turned into the big man's chest, and his hands were gentle as he helped her shift, gathered her to him, and held her while she cried out the rest of it. Something seethed beneath Jayne's surface, in the set of his jaw, but he said nothing, even when he pulled out a handkerchief and cleaned her face. It felt wrong to watch them, but Book couldn't look away.

Her head came up suddenly. "They're coming."

"I hear them."

They untangled themselves and rose. Jayne gave River a little nudge toward Book and took two big steps away from her. Jayne scowled, noticing that Book shifted away from her before Book noticed himself. Then Simon and Kaylee appeared.

"There you are! _Mei-mei_ , we've been looking for you," Simon said, coming to take her hands.

"Cap'n says we're almost read to go," Kaylee added.

"You've been crying." Simon brushed back hair from her face, studying her eyes. He turned on Jayne. "What happened?"

Jayne shrugged. "Usual stuff."

"We were talking," Book said, trying to smooth things over, "and things became...confusing."

"Mythology of the symbol cannot be quantified. She does not comprehend."

"All right, let's get going and save theological debates for another visit, okay?"

River nodded and Simon put an arm around her shoulders, drawing her away. Kaylee fell into step behind them, but Jayne remained, watching them walk away.

"I'm sorry," Book said. "I could see she was agitated, but I didn't expect-I suppose I should have ended our discussion sooner."

Jayne shrugged. "Just comes outta nowhere sometimes. You know that."

 _Not out of nowhere._ Books head spun with all she'd given him to think about.

"I can see nothing wrong in what you're doing, Jayne."

Book saw the way the other man's shoulders dropped, the relief his words gave, and he felt like a fraud. The girl was correct, he had no right to Jayne's respect. No right to judge what he didn't understand.

"That it?"

"She gave me a lot to think about. Perhaps we could talk again."

"Yeah, sure. Uh...thank you."

"Jayne..."

"Sounds like we're about ready to go. I'll see ya next time," Jayne said, the words barely carried back to Book as he walked away.

xxxxx

*matryoshka- Russian nesting dolls


End file.
